


Reflections of Home

by comebacknow



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: 11!Verse, M/M, Mirror fic, Nightmares, TMH universe, a white tattered blanket, an attempt to keep thomas' life easy, cave collapses, check tags for TMH for additional information, frypan's got some snark to him, gap fic, minho's first day, ragged lines in the sand, sleeping in trucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebacknow/pseuds/comebacknow
Summary: It's been a week since Minho was taken from WCKD.  But Thomas has got a plan to get him back - to get all of them back. And Newt is going to follow him, wherever the plan leads. And if all goes well, they'll be in the Safe Haven in two weeks.***All does not go well, they are not in the Safe Haven in two weeks, and the flicker of hope left in Newt's chest is dimming more than ever. But Thomas is holding strong and leading them into the fray, never giving up.  And with old and new friends, a love that continues to grow each day, and more maps that he can count-- Newt finds a light to push down the threatening darkness.





	1. On Introductions and Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Talk Me Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874430) by [comebacknow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebacknow/pseuds/comebacknow). 



> Mostly based on movie-verse. Sticking to canon as much as possible for this, though some names were created for characters who didn't have them mentioned in the movie. This story takes place over the course of 6 months between TST and TDC.
> 
> This prologue & first chapter are both short, because they're more focused on setting the scene and vibe of the story. The rest will (mostly) be longer.
> 
> Reflections of Home is a mirror fic of Talk Me Home.  
> If you'd like to read the story in Thomas' POV, you can do so [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874430/chapters/31919943)  
> This fic will be the exact same story, the same sequences of events, just in a different point of view. There will be no changes to the story.
> 
>  
> 
> *Not sure when updates will be specifically. Probably sporadic. Sticking to an actual schedule last time was more difficult than I thought lol   
>  
> 
> For more information on the 11!Verse, please follow the tag above and check out the other works in the universe. TMH and RoH chapters 1-12 are a canon prequel to the Call My Name series by KathSilver and a parallel of WCKD Knight by Tattered_Dreams. #WelcomeToThe11!Verse
> 
> [Please reach out before using any ideas/events/original characters that come from this fic!]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Newt Brings Thomas a Blanket

**Prologue**

 

 

            _“Helluva speech, kid.  So, what’s your plan?”_

_Newt turned his focus from Vince.  He could sense Fry walking up behind him, but he kept his focus on Thomas – hand fumbling along the strap of his backpack.  Newt squinted up against the sun, curious now to see what Thomas’ plan would be after insisting he would kill Ava Paige. Newt swallowed the words and the memory of what it felt to kill.  His hands still ached, cool gunmetal a too familiar feeling now._

_“You had a plan before we got here,” Thomas said to Vince, drawing Newt’s attention back.  “Move out this morning.  You stick to it. I want half of us moving out in the next hour to the Safe Haven.  Find it.  As for the rest of us? We clean out this camp, gather supplies and move as soon as we have a direction for WCKD.  Decide what group you’re in and get moving.”_

_“We’re gonna need a lot more than a direction to head in,” Harriet pointed out._

_Thomas nodded.  “That’s why I’m hoping you’re with us.”_

_“They’ve got Aris and Sonya.  I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”_

_Newt turned as he heard footsteps and his eyes snagged on a young girl stepping up.  She nodded up at Thomas.  “I can take the lead on the Safe Haven group.”_

_It seemed to be enough for Thomas.  In the blink of an eye, people were moving.  Supplies were passed hand to hand, bags packed and tossed into trucks, goodbyes exchanged.  Lists, maps, and weapons.  Promises and pacts._

_Newt skirted two people saying goodbye to one another in a tight embrace.  He stepped up to Thomas’ side as his eyes scanned the scene.  “Well?” Newt asked._

_Thomas turned to him and a smile appeared on his face for the first time that day.  “We’re getting him back,” he said, voice laced with determination.  “And then the three of us are making it to the Safe Haven and we’re never dealing with WCKD again.”_

_“Good that, Tommy,” Newt clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “Good that.”_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Chapter 1: On Introductions & Insomnia**

**_Or: Newt Brings Thomas a Blanket_ **

 

 

 

 

            It was no surprise to Newt that he wasn’t getting any sleep again tonight.  He eyed the empty bedroll to his left.  Thomas hadn’t slept in days, only hours at a time.  And so, neither had Newt.

            He exhaled into the stifled air within the tent.  He understood.  He did, really.  Minho was taken. _Minho_. One of the strongest people Newt had ever known.  Taken down by an electric shock.  Twice.  Only the second time, Newt wasn’t there to help him up, carry him to safety.  The second time, Newt had hidden behind a crate while Minho defended them.  While Minho saved his life. _Again_.

            Newt bit down on his tongue, bringing himself back to the present.  The tent.  The tent Minho should have been sleeping in with them.  The tent Thomas should have been sleeping in. He let himself get lost in that thought instead.  Thinking on other universes, where perhaps they still had Minho with them, was useless.  He would never be in those universes.  In this one he had Thomas, and he wasn’t going to lose him too.

            Newt pushed himself up on his elbows and looked out of the slim opening of the tent.  The breeze ruffled it just enough that he could see the mountain outside, but there was no sign of life.  Still, he knew it was out there.  Somewhere.

            He arched his neck to the right to see Fry asleep on his side, blanket pulled up past his shoulder. Newt reached to the bottom of his bed roll and pulled his boots on.  He didn’t bother lacing them, they wouldn’t be on long.  He grabbed the tattered white blanket and left the tent.

 

            He paused on the outside, his eyes falling on the boy sitting just further from the camp looking out.  He was perched by the top of a hill that sloped lower into the mountain, silhouetted against the night sky and barely visible with no light on him, but Newt knew he was there.  Newt always knew Thomas was there.  He’d swear Thomas made his own light.

            Newt could remember nearly every moment with Thomas.  Granted, there weren’t many in the few months they’d known each other, but Newt would have remembered them all, regardless.

            He couldn’t remember specifically when it happened – falling in love with a boy preoccupied with nearly everything else going on in the world.  With a boy who spent so much of his time focused on everyone else that he never stopped to even consider himself.  That was okay, Newt reminded himself time and time again.  Newt considered Thomas enough for the both of them.

            It wasn’t only physical attraction, though Newt could have gone on about the freckles and moles for days, the angled cheekbones over the small hollows in his cheeks, the way his hair seemed to curl over his forehead in the most disheveled way that only he could pull off. And his hands, _his hands._ Thomas’ hands were quite possibly Newt’s favorite thing about him.  The thin, bony fingers, the veins running up the backs and up his forearms.  He could never draw something remotely similar to them. Not that he hadn’t tried.

            No, it wasn’t only physical attraction.  It was the ease Newt felt around him.  The lightness, the assurance.  The feeling that no matter what happened, Newt would be okay as long as Thomas was around.  He felt…safe.  Like he could make it through anything.  Like he _would_ make it through anything.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that sure of something. 

            He took a breath and looked down at the white tattered blanket in his hands.  Vince had given it to them earlier in the week.  He’d given them quite a few.  It wasn’t warm, not by any means.  It was thin, ragged.  There were stray threads that kept snagging on things when he tried to move it.  It was a mess, but it was something.  And lately, everyone needed a small something to get them through.

            Newt took a breath and then a step toward Thomas.  And then he kept moving.

 

            Thomas’ shadow extended back behind him and Newt worked to steady his breathing as he walked closer.  There was no need to be anxious.  It was just Thomas.

            “If you’re gonna stay out here all night again, you should at least take a blanket with you,” he said.  He tossed the blanket to the ground next to Thomas and then stepped up next to him.  “After everything we went through,” he continued, “it’d be rather anticlimactic to have you put out with a cold, yeah?”  He let a small laugh out and then took a seat next to him.

            “Thanks,” was Thomas’ only response.

            Newt swallowed.  A weighted silence settled between them, only interrupted by the winds blowing through.  He ignored the way his leg began to ache in the angle and focused on Thomas instead.  He could tell Thomas was distracted.  More than that, Newt knew Thomas was nervous.  It was easy to notice.  Like everyone, Thomas had a tell. 

            Newt shifted his eyes to the right a bit and watched Thomas.  His eyes were scanning the horizon, but they weren’t really seeing it.  They filmed over as his right leg shook and Newt knew then.  Thomas’ wheels were spinning.

            “Remember the night that the Grievers attacked the Glade?” Newt asked, hoping to bring Thomas back to him. 

            Thomas seemed to still next to him. “Of course,” he said, barely above a whisper.

            Newt nodded, recalling the memory himself.  He felt the corner of his mouth lift up.  “You remember, I suspect, when you went and stabbed yourself with a Griever stinger?” He turned to Thomas, but Thomas only looked at him confused, no sign of laughter anywhere on his face.   “’Course you might not. You were passed out half the night, now, weren’t you?” Newt took a breath as he looked back up to the sky. 

            “I…, yeah,” Thomas cleared his throat.  “Yeah, I remember.”  
  
            Newt stretched his legs out and then brought them back again, letting the blood flow through.  It eased the ache, but it still made its presence known.  It always would.  “Yeah, well,” he continued.  “What you don’t remember, is what happened after we locked your butt up in the slammer.”

            “When Gally took over,” Thomas said.

            Newt furrowed his brow, considering this point of view.  “Well, sort of,” he settled on. He supposed now was a good enough time to explain Gally taking over.  He exhaled.  “Tommy,” he began, “when those Grievers came through,” he dropped his gaze as the memory flooded him.  His chest ached. He started over.  “Now, you know none of us had ever seen one before.  No matter how many times I ran that maze with Minho, never in my life had I seen one.”  
  
            “Wait, wait,” Thomas interrupted.  “You were a runner?”

            Newt’s heart stuttered.  Of course Thomas didn’t know.  He turned to him and forced a smile behind his eyes.  “Yeah, Tommy.”

            Thomas tilted his head.  “How come…?” his words faded.

            Newt considered his options, but now wasn’t the time.  This conversation wasn’t about him.  It was about Thomas.  He offered a smile and looked back up at the sky.  “That’s a story for another time.  Now, the story is about the night of the attack.”  Newt took a breath as the memory began to play like a film in his head. 

 

 

***

_“Newt, you’re not seriously getting on my case over this!” Gally shouted. “Do you see what just happened? Did you watch any of that?”_

_“Yes, Gally,” Newt choked out. Though, it was quite possible he only thought it.  His hands still shook at his sides.  He could barely focus on the hut around them.  All he could see was Alby being ripped away in front of him, Eric tossed to the side like a sack by a Griever._

_“Really?” Gally pressed as he started walking toward him. “Because I don’t think you’re seeing this how-”_

_“Gally,” Minho demanded._

_In the corner of his vision Newt could see Minho yank Gally’s arm back, but Gally broke free before he ground out a few choice words to Minho._

_“Stop,” Newt said.  He was sure he said it this time. But, just in case… “Stop!”_

_The broken room around them quieted down.  Newt finally looked up.  “Where’s…?” his sentence faded.  He didn’t even know who was alive and who wasn’t. He looked around at the small group gathered: Gally, Minho, Jack, Rob, Tim and Jeff. Seven, including himself. Thomas and the girl were in the Slammer.  Chuck was with Winston and Alex.  And that was all he knew._

_“Newt,” Minho’s voice brought Newt back to focus. “Hey,” he said lower, “you alright?”_

_Newt considered the question._

_“Newt, look at me,” Minho said, tilting his head just a bit lower to catch Newt’s eyes._

_“Minho,” Newt breathed, heart rate picking up.  “They’re,” he shook his head. “They’re all-”_

_“It’s okay,” Minho nodded. “Hang in there.”_

_“Newt,” Gally started. “Look I know this is bad, but-”_

_“Gally, shut your mouth,” Minho snapped, turning back._

_“He’s not okay, Minho,” Gally shouted.  “He’s not thinking right.”_

_Minho’s grip on Newt tightened, but he kept his eyes on Gally.  “Shut your mouth!”_

_Gally eyed Minho.  There was a silent exchange that Newt didn’t have the patience nor focus to interpret._

_Minho turned to the others.  “Get water.”_

_Jeff sprinted through the door and out of sight._

_Minho turned back to Newt. “Newt, listen, the night’s over. The Grievers are gone.”_

_“Minho,” Newt breathed._

_“I’m right here.”_

_“No,” Newt shook his head.  “I need you get the others.”_

_“Get who?”_

_“All of them,” Newt said. “Everyone left.” He nearly choked on the word. His head swam and the ground felt so distant suddenly. Alby was gone._

_“Okay,” Minho nodded. “I’ll be right back okay?”_

_“Gally,” Newt breathed. Zart was gone._

_“What?” Minho and Gally both asked._

_“Gally.” Billy was gone._

_Gally hesitated, but stepped closer to Newt._

_They were all gone. Newt swallowed. He glanced at Minho.  No, not all of them.  “Now, please, Minho.”_

_Minho nodded once and sprinted through the door.  Newt could hear his voice calling across the Glade – the destroyed, burnt Glade._

_“Newt,” Gally said. “What is it?”_

_Newt looked up at Gally, met fierce blue eyes looking back at him.  “I need you to lead them.”_

_Gally watched him for another moment.  When he spoke, his voice was low enough that Newt barely heard him.  “What?”_

_“I need you to lead them,” Newt repeated.  “Please.”_

_“Newt, you’re next in line.  This is your-”_

_“Gally,” Newt said.  “I’m giving it to you. Send Minho to me and take the others.”_

_Gally paused for a moment before his eyes hardened. “Good that.” He turned then and pointed to Jack. “Stay with him.” He pointed to Rob and Tim. “You two, with me. Let’s go.”_

_Newt watched them leave in silence.  When they did, he turned to Jack as the younger boy was walking toward him._

_“Newt,” Jack started. “Are you sure about this?”_

_Newt breathed out.  “I’m sure he’ll do better than me right now.”_

_Jack’s eyes softened, but he didn’t say anything._

_“You don’t have to wait with me,” Newt shook his head.  “I’m okay, really.”_

_Jack shrugged and took a seat on the small railing behind them.  “It’s okay.”_

_Minho burst in the room then.  “What the shuck just happened?”_

_“Minho,” Newt warned._

_“I leave for three minutes and you go and put Gally in charge?”_

_“I had no choice.”_

_“You had several choices.”_

_“Minho,” Newt warned again.  “Look around.  Everything’s gone.  I can’t take this place over.”_

_“Alby made you second in com-”_

_“Alby made a decision based off-” he cut his words off, suddenly aware of Jack’s presence._

_“Don’t say that,” Minho shook his head.  “That had nothing to do with anything.”_

_“Didn’t it?”_

_“No, Newt,” Minho said, taking another step forward. “It didn’t.”_

_“I can’t lead,” Newt insisted.  “I don’t want to.  Not now.  Not like this.”_

_“Fine,” Minho folded his arms.  “If you don’t want it, fine. But Gally?”_

_Newt lifted his eyes to Minho’s.  “He’s a leader.”_

_“He’s an asshole.”_

_“You didn’t think so once before.”_

_Minho’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit and, while Newt felt a little guilty about the card he’d just played, he knew he hit his mark._

_“Gally’s not thinking right either, you know,” Minho said, a bit calmer._

_“What other choice do I have?” Newt said. “I know you wouldn’t take it-”_

_“-hell no-”_

_“-and Tim isn’t strong enough for that.  Winston is still too new at being keeper.”_

_“What about Dan?” Minho asked._

_Newt looked up at him._

_“Not,” Minho held up his hands in defense. “I’m not being funny. I mean it. He used to be keeper.”_

_“Yeah,” Newt nodded. “He gave it up because he didn’t want to be. You think he’d want to be leader?”_

_Minho sighed.  His hands found a resting spot on his hips as his eyes scanned the floor as if searching for an answer.  Suddenly, his eyes snapped up to Newt.  “Thomas.”_

_Newt blinked.  “What?”_

_“Thomas,” Minho repeated._

_“You want the Greenie – who’s been here three days – to be Leader?”_

_Minho took a step closer. “Listen, Newt.  I know he probably seems like a dumb shank running into the Maze and all that, but I’m telling you. He could do it.”_

_Newt didn’t say anything.  It was true, the new guy was rash, but there was a bravery to him Newt hadn’t seen in… well, since he’d met Minho._

_“I told you,” Minho continued. “He busted his butt to save Alby. Risked his dumb life,” he shrugged. “He never gave up hope.”_

_Newt swallowed. That was something he didn’t have in common with Thomas, and maybe that’s why Minho was right. Maybe that’s why Thomas would make a good leader.  “Gally will never stand for it.”_

_“Screw Gally,” Minho shrugged._

_Newt shook his head. “I can’t make Thomas Leader.  It’ll cause a rift in the Glade.”_

_“Look around you, Newt,” Minho spread his arms out.  “There’s already a rift in the Glade.”_

_Newt sighed._

_“Let’s just talk to Thomas when he wakes up,” Minho said. “He might know a way out.  Let’s see what he remembers from the Sting.”_

_“The Sting?” Jack asked suddenly._

_Minho turned to him.  “Seriously?” he deadpanned. “No wonder Fry made you a dishwasher.”_

           

***

 

 

 

            “It wasn’t that serious,” Thomas said, shaking his head.  “It was all luck.”

            Newt bit down on the smile that threatened to break.  He remembered thinking the same thing about Thomas.  How things change…  “Well then you’ve got quite a four-leaf clover there, Tommy,” he said as he shifted to press his shoulder into Thomas.  “No,” Newt shook his head. “I may not have been in there with you two, but from what Minho said, it wasn’t luck.  And, no offense, but I’ll take Minho’s word on it.  That night the Grievers came, he told me that no matter what happened after that night, no matter what Gally did the next morning, we should put our trust in _you_ because you were the one who would be able to get us out.”

            Thomas shifted next to him.

            Newt continued, “and now, I know without a doubt that Minho is with WCKD right now, fighting and holding himself together because he _knows_ you’re out here.  He knows how strong you are, how smart and how one-track minded you can be.  He knows you’ll come after him, and he knows you’ll get it done, no matter how abrasive you are about it.”  Newt paused.  He looked at Thomas, profile silhouetted against the mountains.  “And I know it, too.”

            Thomas looked back at him and Newt could see his eyes soften just a bit from the usual hardness that seemed to live there ever since Newt had known him. Thomas nodded, barely perceptible.  Newt could accept that for now.

            “Right,” he nodded.  “Well, I’m going to get some sleep.  Don’t want to greet Minho with shadows under my eyes.  Last thing I need is for him to greet me with some snarky remark about not dressing myself up for him.  Rather not give him the ammo, y’know?” Newt gripped Thomas’ shoulder, a small squeeze to try to ease the tension in them.  He stood and turned to head back to the tent.  “Night, Tommy,” he said over his shoulder.

            “Night Newt.”

            Newt couldn’t help the small pull inside of his chest at Thomas’ voice.  He pushed it down.  There was no need to focus on it.  There never would be.  He glanced down at the ground as he walked past the place Minho was taken.  He pulled his eyes away a moment later and exhaled.  “I’ll see you soon, Minho.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's officially been 6 months since I started posting Talk Me Home!!
> 
> That being said, I wanted to celebrate by posting the first chapter of Reflections of Home. I've been working on Newt's POV of the fic for a while now and I'm excited to finally get it up. So I hope you enjoyed the first bit.
> 
> Quick notes:
> 
> 1\. Newt's got a lot of darkness in him, so some of this story will deal with that. I'll be sure to include TWs at the beginning of any chapters that deal heavily with depression.
> 
> 2\. Newt's got a lot of memories as well. This fic will have most of them laced through it (as shown in this chapter). I'm trying to include one memory in each chapter, but who knows.
> 
> 3\. I hope I do it justice in Newt's POV!!!! <3


	2. On Lines and Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Newt Will Play the Role of Hope

            Even when he wasn’t trying, Newt remembered the first time he saw him.

 

 

 

_The boy looked like he’d gotten into a fight with the crates surrounding him.  There was supplies littered everywhere and a jar was smashed in the corner.  Newt would have to get someone to clean that up._

_There was a glint that caught his eye and Newt tilted his head just a bit to see the knife clutched in the boy’s hand, knuckles white as he tightened his grip on it.  The boy’s dark eyes scanned the few faces above, mouth set in a line, ready to attack._

_His black hair was mussed, sweat beaded on his forehead.  Newt had the distinct impression this boy’s trip up was much different than his own.  But he didn’t think about his now.  He didn’t think about it ever._

_Nick lowered himself into the box and the new boy immediately shifted into a defensive stance – no, that wasn’t defense.  That was offense.  He was ready to attack at the first sign of aggression.  There was nothing defensive about him, nothing passive.  Newt smiled to himself.  It was about time they had someone with a bit of a fight to them._

 

 

***

 

 

            Now, Newt stood on dirt and sand, no grass anywhere in sight.  His eyes were set on the ground before him, watching Minho get taken away over and over and over and…

 

 

 

            The lines were gone now.

 

            The night following the WCKD Raid, Newt heard Frypan stir, probably sure that Newt was asleep.  When Fry had laced his boots and left the tent with a blanket in hand, Newt quietly snuck to the edge of the tent and pulled the flap back just a bit.  He watched as Frypan walked up and down the trail.  Up and down the ragged lines where Minho had been dragged away by WCKD soldiers.  The lines Newt had stared at for hours, had memorized.  And Frypan dusted them away.  He used the blanket to shift the sand back and forth, to erase them.  He scuffed his boots across them, kicked sand over them.  Covered up the dark reds staining the ground. 

            Newt watched him work for nearly an hour until he tossed the blanket aside and crouched down, sat on the sand and dropped his head in his hands.  A shudder of his shoulders was all Newt saw before pulling himself back into the tent. 

 

           

***

 

 

            A week later, Newt was still staring at the ground.

 

            “You still see it, huh?”  
  
            He turned to Frypan, quite unsure of when he’d joined him there.  He offered a small smile and looked back.  “Suppose I always will.”

            “Not always,” Frypan answered.

            Newt let the words sink in, but slowly shook his head.  “How’d you do it?”

            Frypan glanced at him

            “How’d you walk away?” Newt didn’t clarify.  He knew Frypan would understand.  After all, Gally had been _his_ best friend.

            “Same way you will,” Fry said softly.  “It doesn’t get easier, but other things do.”

            Newt swallowed.  How was anything supposed to be easy again? He’d had Minho with him nearly every day.  Always by his side, always helping him, getting him through, pulling him forward.  Newt knew he wouldn’t get far without him.  There was no way.  He’d already accepted that.

            But he would pretend.

            He would put on the face of hope and the support and positivity that the others needed.  He already was aware he wouldn’t make it; that he would fall back into old habits without Minho there.  But that didn’t mean he had to let everyone else.

            So, when Thomas re-emerged from Vince’s tent stone-faced, Newt smiled hopefully at him.  “How’d that go?”

            “I think we have a direction,” Thomas nodded.  “Just hope it’s the right one.”

            Newt nudged him with a shoulder.  “I don’t really think there’s a wrong direction at this point.  As long as we’re moving, right?”  
  
            “Always keep moving,” Frypan grinned.

            Newt smiled.  Frypan was always best at positivity.  Newt was grateful to have him around to keep him where he needed to be.

            Thomas only nodded, no trace of a smile.  No hint of hope.  “Let’s get moving.”

 

            The drive was long, tiring.  Arduous.

 

            The truck was incredibly uncomfortable, even with the spare blankets folded up as makeshift cushions.  Newt let his exhaustion get the better of him briefly, but it barely helped.  While he usually had the uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere, his mind was stirring far too much to let him.

            Thomas was just as restless.  His eyes scanned the mountains around them, the road again, the truck following.  His mouth was set in a line, but that was nothing new lately.  The entirety of the last week was set lines, furrowed brows, fidgeting hands and legs, bitten lips and shifting eyes.  Always in thought.  Always planning.  Ever the Leader.

            Newt wanted to reach out.  He wanted to pull Thomas aside and tell him to take a breath, to ask for help.  Newt was more than willing to help even if he didn’t have much to provide.  But Thomas would never ask for help.

            Thomas would never ask for anything.

            Newt pushed away the invasive thoughts finishing his sentence. _Anything from you._ He knew it was nonsense.  He knew the creeping voices were only those that came from the darkness and uttered words to drag him back down. 

            He pulled the white tattered blanket up over him, let the salt and brine scent work its way around him like its own blanket.  He curled up and breathed Thomas in.  And he let them work closer to Minho.

 

            _“Do you remember your name at all yet?”_

_The boy looked up at him from the bench.  He barely moved his head.  Only a shift of his dark eyes._

_Newt swallowed his sigh.  This was normal for the new guys.  Newt pointed silently to the empty space next to him._

_No response._

_“You know, none of us have any answers,” Newt laughed, folding his arms.  “So if you’re holding out until we give you any, you’ll have a long time to wait.”_

_The boy looked up at him then, narrowed his eyes.  “And if you’re holding out for me to answer your question, you can wait too.”_

_Newt held his gaze for a minute before he let his mouth curl into a smile.  To his surprise, the other boy mirrored it._

_He heard someone call his name and he turned._

_“Newt, get over here!”_

_He furrowed his brow.  Why was Frypan yelling for him? And why was Thomas with him? Wait… why was Thomas here at all?_

_“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” he said, barely audible, with a tilt of his head._

_Newt turned back, but the bright green of the Glade’s grass turned to dark sand and rock.  Ragged lines.  Flashing lights and gunshots._

_Someone called for Minho behind him, the name ripping from their throat.  Newt’s chest collapsed inside of him.  He turned to see who yelled._

_“Newt!” Thomas yelled.  Uniformed guards held him between them, dragging him away.  There was a gun settled at Thomas’ neck as it strained, lines stretched taut as he yelled again for Newt’s help._

 

 

 

            Newt only stirred again when the trucks slowed down.  His mind was foggy, which let him know that he, without realizing, had evidently fallen asleep.  At least some things didn’t change.

            “Don’t worry, Newt.  Go back to sleep,” Thomas said before he hopped out of the truck.  Off to explore.  Off to lead.  No, some things just wouldn’t change and that, if nothing else, comforted Newt.

            “You doin’ alright?”

            Newt looked over at Frypan.  “Are you going to ask me that every time you look at me?”

            “I will until you give me a convincing answer,” he smiled.

            Newt rolled his eyes, but smiled back.  “I’m great, Fry.  I’ve got a bloody knot in my back from sleeping like this and a cramp that’s been growing up my leg all day.”  He straightened his legs in front of him and felt the muscle shift and stretch.  Something cool blossomed in it as if the blood was finally able to flow through correctly.  He caught Frypan’s shifted glance to his leg.  Right.  There would be none of that.

            He pulled himself forward to the side edge of the truck.  His eyes found Thomas and the others huddled in a circle, gaze on the dark tunnel ahead.  Great.  Dark spaces.  Newt sighed, draping himself over the edge of the truck.  Could always be worse.  Might as well get it over with.

            “Oi!” He waited for Thomas to turn.  “We moving?”

            “Yeah, we’re going now!” Thomas called back before turning to the others. 

            Something panged in Newt’s chest.  He hated not knowing what was going on, but this was Thomas’ mission.  He had the lead on this and Newt knew it was best that way.  He was in no state to lead. He hadn’t been for a long time.  Besides, what would he have to offer that Vince, Jorge and Joe couldn’t? They had experience in this.  They had maps, trucks, weapons.  They had knowledge. 

            Things were fine in the Glade.  It was easy to walk around and make sure the boys were on schedule to build the deck on the Lookout Tree.  It was easy to look over someone’s shoulder as they cut up the ingredients for lunch to be served later.  It was easy to sit with Alby for hours on end, putting together lists and schedules. 

            That was easy.

            But this.  This was uncharted territory.  This was bigger than anything Newt had encountered.  This was a scarred world and could only be taken by people who were stronger than it.  Newt knew very well that he wasn’t that person.  He could never be stronger than a world that took everything from him.

            But Thomas…

            Newt pulled himself from the truck’s edge and found his place in the corner again, pulling the blanket back around him.  Now, he was in no state to lead.  He was in no state to do much of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I forget how short these early chapters were. Whew. 
> 
> 1\. Have some more memories! Including the first time Minho came up in the box <3
> 
> 2\. Newt sees how stressed Thomas is. When he's around, Newt will absolutely put on the positive smiles and hope. Even if it's a lie.
> 
> 3\. Newt's Dream - It's sort of a mix of a memory and a dream. It's partially one of the first times Newt and Minho speak, but it blends into a nightmare of Thomas getting taken away by WCKD. Hope that was sorta clear..
> 
>  
> 
> That's all! Longer chapters ahead, don't worry. <3


	3. On Dreams and Drives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Newt Just Wants One Full Night of Sleep, Dammit

 

            He didn’t know how many times he’d drifted in and out of sleep in the darkness of the tunnel.  Didn’t focus on it.  It didn’t matter, there was little that did anymore.  Whenever Newt was rattled awake by the truck hitting a particularly bumpy part of the path, he just turned over and closed his eyes again.

            When he dreamt, he dreamt of Grievers.

            When he dreamt, he dreamt of fire.

            When he dreamt, he dreamt of Cranks.

            When he heard the rustling for the second time, he took a break from the nightmares and silently watched Thomas count and recount the supplies.  It was all he’d been doing the entire week before they left.  Planning, always planning.  Ever the leader.

            Sure enough, when the trucks stopped, Thomas was the first down and directly to Vince.  Newt caught Frypan’s eye in the headlights.  There were no words.  They simply exchanged a yawn and small laugh.

            Yes, there would always be darkness.  But then, there always was.

            At least they had each other.

 

            Thomas approached their truck as Newt tossed the blanket aside.  “Campin’ here then?” Newt asked, hopeful.  He just needed to be out of the truck at this point.

            “Yeah,” Thomas said, gesturing to the blanket.  “Only necessities.  It’s gonna be uncomfortable but we need to rest before we move on.”

            “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Fry added, echoing Newt’s thoughts.  “Between the two of you, I can’t tell who’s gonna collapse first.”

            Newt’s head snapped up from the blanket.  He could’ve smacked Frypan.  Thomas had routes, supplies, plans and a million other things to focus on.  He didn’t need to worry about Newt’s sleeping habits. Or lack thereof.  Nobody did.  Not when Newt didn’t even care.

            “Whatever blankets you have,” Thomas said, and Newt breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that Thomas seemed to have missed Fry’s comment.  “Grab one of the flashlights.  We don’t need them all.”  
  
            Newt smirked as he reached for Thomas’ bag.  “Where’s the one you’ve been playing with for the last ten miles?”

            Thomas moved right past it, focus centered.  “Leave whatever you can in the truck.  We need to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, just in case.”

            Newt ignored the voice in his head that urged him to reach out to Thomas, urged him to wrap his arms around him and tell him to breathe.  Instead, he pulled the flashlight out and busied his arms around the blanket instead.

            “In case of what?” Fry asked somewhere to his left.  “Is there something in the cave?”

            “No,” Thomas answered.  But then, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

            Newt snorted.  “Well that’s reassuring.”

            “Not now, Newt.”

            Newt looked up at Thomas’ snapped retort as it struck into his chest.  He tentatively rose a brow.

            “Sorry,” Thomas shook his head.  “I don’t-”

            “S’alright, Tommy,” Newt shook his head.  He didn’t need the apology and Thomas didn’t need the guilt.  “I know you get cranky when you don’t sleep.”  He crouched down in front of Thomas, hoping the leveled eye contact would make Thomas hear him for once.  “Do us a favor, yeah? Get some actual sleep tonight.”  He passed the blanket to Thomas.

            “Yeah, you too.”

            _He did notice then._

“Lead by example, mate,” Newt said, clasping a hand on his shoulder.  He hopped down from the truck, a sharpened arrow splitting its way up his shin as he landed.  He took the blanket back from Thomas, hoping to block the stagger of his walk.  He knew the others noticed.  They all did.  He kept his eyes forward on the camp that Brenda was setting up.

            He slowly lowered himself to a kneel across from her, ignoring the pressure. 

            “Hey,” Brenda nodded, not bothering to look up.  “Grab that corner.”

            He shifted all of his weight to his good leg, ignored Clint’s voice in his head telling him not to, and helped her spread out another comforter.  As long as he looked like he was fine, the others wouldn’t have to worry about him.  They had enough to deal with.  They didn’t need his stupid mistakes added to that.

 

            The group was restless, even in sleep.  Harriet’s anger over someone’s constant movements coupled with Josh’s retorts didn’t help matters.  Something must have happened between them in the weeks before Newt and the others reached the Right Arm.  He swallowed as another comment was exchanged between the two.  Maybe that was something he could help with.  One less thing Thomas would have to deal with.

            As if on cue, he heard another sigh next to him, just slightly above his ear where Thomas lied in the opposite direction.  “Y’alright, Tommy?” he asked as Brenda chimed in somewhere to his right.

            Thomas turned his head and Newt ignored the way his chest tightened at their proximity. 

            “Yeah,” Thomas sighed, breath ruffling through Newt’s hair.  “Just wondering if it was even worth it to stop.”

            Newt let loose a small laugh.  He lifted himself on his elbows and faced the others.  “Oi!  Everybody slim it now!  Stop moving and just lie down and sleep.  If you wanna keep fighting we can just get back in the trucks and keep it moving until we pass out from exhaustion.  Is that what you want?” He ignored the nerves buzzing through his body, the flashes back to the Homestead.

            “Talk to me like that agai-”

            “Harriet, please,” one of the other boys – Matt, Newt reminded himself – sighed.

            Harriet exhaled loudly before conceding and Newt lied back down next to Thomas.  He waited in the silence, listening to the breaths even out.  He stared up in the darkness.  As much as he tried, he couldn’t get the sudden memory of the Homestead out of his head.  Bedrolls side by side, laughter and snores echoing throughout the wood and bark.  It had taken nearly a full year before it was built; Gally, Alfred and Henry taking the lead on it for hours a day.  It was a box day when it was finished.  They’d welcomed Jack around a bonfire when Gally made the announcement declaring the shelter’s safety.  That night was barely a memory for anyone.  The excitement from even having a homestead was quickly shadowed with the strength of Gally’s brew he decided to debut as well.  Half the Gladers didn’t even make it inside.  Lee barely made it from the bonfire.

            Newt smiled at the memory, fell asleep to the sounds of Alby’s and Minho’s laughter next to him.  
  
  
***  


 

            _“How the hell did you even end up in here?” Newt laughed, crouched down next to the Slammer as Alby unlocked it._

_“Man,” Dmitri rubbed the heel of his hand in circles on the side of his head.  “Why are you always so loud?”_

_Newt snorted._

_“Come on, Shank,” Alby said as he straightened and pulled the rickety gate open.  “Someone lock you in here?”_

_“Uh, kinda,” he said, reaching up and grabbing Alby’s outstretched hand.  Alby pulled him up and Dmitri stumbled, his free hand stretched over his eyes to block out the sun.  “Is Minho pissed?”_

_“No,” Minho laughed._

_Dmitri spun and Newt followed his gaze to where Minho leaned on the other Slammers, arms folded across his chest.  “Shit,” Dmitri laughed out.  “No running today?”_

_“Definitely not,” Minho laughed.  “You locked yourself in the Slammer, my body can barely hold itself up, and Newt looks like he’d rather kill himself than move faster than a garden snail.”_

_Newt’s mouth curled up.  “I’ll remind you that **I’m** the one who had to wake **you** up this morning.”_

_“Yeah, yeah,” Minho said, dropping his gaze._

_Newt snorted._

_“Come on,” Alby said. “Let’s see if we can get Frypan to get something together for us.  I feel like everyone’s gonna need a little extra food today.”_

_“What about the rest of the guys?” Minho asked.  “They being given the day off, too?”_

_“No,” Alby said, leading the way to the kitchens.  He turned back to look at them.  “And if you think you’re getting the day off, you’re shucked out of your minds.  You’re gonna eat and then grab Justin and the four of you are in the Map Room. I don’t wanna see any sign of you til noon.”_

_“The Map Room?” Newt asked, jogging forward to catch up to Alby.  “What’re we even supposed to Map? We haven’t found anything for weeks.”_

_“I don’t care,” Alby looked at him.  “That’s your job.”_

_Newt furrowed his brow at him._

_Alby sighed and stopped walking.  “I’m just trying to help Nick out, Newt.  We need to keep this place running.”_  
  
            “Yeah, I get that, Alby,” Newt nodded.  “But one day off isn’t gonna change anything.  We might as well have off with all the klunk we’ve found out there anyway.”

_“You haven’t found anything.”_

_“Exactly,” Newt snapped back.  “You want us to keep mapping this Maze but what are we even looking for at this point?”_

_There was a hand at his shoulder then and he felt his nerves settle as Minho tugged him back._

_Alby kept his eyes on him.  “Newt, do your job and let me do mine.”_

_“I would if you’d do it right.”_

_Alby’s eyes darkened._

_“Alright,” Minho said, tugging Newt even further back.  “Everyone’s cranky and hungover, we get it.  Let’s eat and then we’ll sort this out later.”_

_But Newt kept his eyes on Alby.  Alby only watched him, his eyes slipping into something different. Something curious._

_“Newt, we have to go,” Minho insisted, pulling his arm harder._

_Newt spun his head as his legs tripped over themselves to keep up with Minho.  Suddenly a pain shot through his right leg that he’d never felt before.  “Minho,” he choked out.  “Slow down, I can’t… I can’t keep up.”  He looked up and, to his horror, found himself lengths behind Minho and Dmitri as they sprinted ahead._

_“Newt!” Alby called behind him.  “Newt, go!”_

_Newt made to turn, but his leg buckled.  His knees slammed into the sand below and something shifted inside of one of them.  He closed his eyes as the colors swam in his vision._

_“Newt, go!”_

_He gritted his teeth.  “I can’t,” he breathed out of them.  He turned over his shoulder to explain to Alby he couldn’t move, but Alby wasn’t there.  He was being dragged up a metal ramp, WCKD guards flanking it.  The colors swam faster in his vision and his leg was on fire.  He wanted to call out to him, wanted to help, but another voice called out._

           

 

***  
  


            He woke up Thomas yelling out, a choked name from his mouth – Teresa.

            Teresa.

            Teresa.

            Newt pushed himself up immediately, spinning on his ankle and ignoring the familiar slice of pain.  He hovered over Thomas as the others started waking and asking what was happening. 

            Thomas writhed beneath them, face screwed up.

            “Is he okay?” Brenda panted next to him, eyes wide in fear.

            “Nightmares,” Newt mumbled. A torch beamed down on Thomas as Newt called his name.

            “Wake him up!”

            “You’re not supposed to wake someone during a nightmare.”  
  
            “Fuck that,” Brenda muttered.  Before Newt could stop her, Brenda raised a hand and landed it across Thomas’ face.  “Thomas!”

            “Shit!” Matt yelped on the other side of Newt.

            Thomas’ eyes sprang open as Brenda’s hand wound back up, ready to strike again.

            Newt moved first this time and grabbed her wrist.  “No, stop! He’s awake!” He swallowed, watching Thomas register the scene around him.  “He’s okay,” he breathed.  Thomas’ eyes found his and something light flowed through him. “Thomas, you alright?”

            “Yeah,” Thomas nodded up at him. “Yeah, I’m good.”

            Newt reached down and wrapped an arm around Thomas, working with Brenda to lift him up.  Newt took a minute to look Thomas over as he and Joe exchanged a few words.  His face was paler than usual, but color was slowly coming back to it.  There was a sheen of sweat on his face and his hair stuck to his forehead in certain spots.  Other than that, he was okay.  Newt repeated the words over to himself until Thomas spoke louder, voice a bit stronger than it had been a few minutes ago, but still ashy and dry.  “Let’s move out.”

            Newt furrowed his brow, not liking the idea of Thomas moving so quickly, but the others were already beginning to pack up, eager to get out of the darkness.  Despite his misgivings, Newt would have liked to see the sun again as well.

            “Here,” Harriet said, pushing a canteen into Thomas’ hands.  “Have some water, your voice sounds like shit.”

            Newt barely glanced at her as Thomas snatched the canteen from her.  She turned immediately and headed off to help the others. He snorted. “Well she certainly doesn’t hold back on the charm, does she?”

            “Man,” Frypan sighed. “She scares me a bit.”

            “Really?” Thomas asked.

            “She’s not scary, she’s just upset,” Newt shrugged and turned to Fry. “Think of how we feel about Minho.  WCKD took _two_ of her friends.  She’s alone in this.”

            “Yeah, I guess,” Fry sighed.

            “Come on, Fry,” Newt slung an arm around him and pushed himself up to stand.  “No need to be scared.  No one would ever hurt you anyway.  No reason to.” He smiled at him, but Fry still looked worried.

            “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he shuffled a bit.

            Newt furrowed his brow at him as Thomas stood to join them. 

            The worry shifted to guilt as Fry continued, “I was the one who kept moving around last night.”

            Newt’s eyes immediately found Thomas’ and the two held each other’s gaze, both of their mouths shut tight, but to no avail – a second later, an explosion of laughter came from the two of them, echoed by Fry’s own.  Newt felt his mouth stretch into a smile as his vision blurred, watching Thomas nearly double over, gasping between laughs.  He turned and pressed his face into Fry’s shoulder, laughing, but the image of Thomas stayed in front of him like a stain on his eyelids. He barely heard Jorge call out to them.  “Let’s go, boys! Burnin’ fuel!”

            Newt pushed off of Fry’s shoulder and felt Thomas’ arm ripple across his shoulders as he stepped between them, spinning them toward the truck.  Briny sea air and sweat swirled around Newt as they walked over, laughter leading their way.

 

 

***  


  
            The drive through the tunnel kept them in darkness, the only lights coming from headlights or torches.  Newt was jostled back and forth along with the supplies in the back of the truck.  Fry seemed to sleep peacefully, somehow, laid out across a blanket with a backpack as a pillow. Even when his head rolled off the pack as they hit another bump, he just shifted back onto it without even opening his eyes.

            Thomas, though.  Thomas was restless, as always.  Newt thought back to the way his voice broke calling out her name.  He tried not to remember the last time he saw her, standing next to Ava, Minho strung up between two WCKD guards.  He bit back on the bile in his mouth.  He wouldn’t think of Minho that way.  He refused.

            The hit another pothole in the cave floor and, through the light coming from Joe’s only working headlight, Newt could see Thomas shift again, brow furrowed.  Newt held back.  There was no reason to go over and sit with him.  He was only trying to sleep.  Newt going over there would only keep him awake.

            Another pothole and Thomas shifted again.  Well, if he wasn’t going to sleep anyway.  Newt stole himself and then moved.  He slid across the comforters spread in the bed of the truck and leaned against the truck’s grate next to Thomas. 

            “What’s up?” Thomas asked.

            He had no idea what he was supposed to say now.  He didn’t think this far ahead.  He busied himself and grabbed a backpack and tucked it between his back and the rattling metal and then stretched his legs out ahead of him.  After he shuffled around a bit more, he realized he couldn’t buy time much longer.  He settled on the truth.  “Figured I’d come check how you’re doing.  Seems like you had another lovely dream last night.”  In the corner of his eyes, Newt could see Thomas pull at a loose thread at the bottom of his jacket.

            “It was nothing, really.”

            Newt watched the shadows from the headlight trail along Thomas’ features.  He already knew the ways shadows seemed to creep beneath his cheekbones and hide from the light that glinted off of his lashes.  Newt could have watched the lights and shadows dance together on his skin for hours. 

            Newt knew that Thomas struggled over the dreams and memories of Teresa.  The way she haunted his mind and made him feel abandoned: somewhere in the middle. Alone. He turned and looked up at the night sky. “I get the dreams, too.”

            Thomas’ eyes shifted, the only sign of movement from him.

            When Thomas didn’t speak, Newt continued.  “Seeing him being taken time and time again.  Only sometimes, it’s not him.  Sometimes it’s Alby.  Sometimes it’s Winston.  Sometimes it’s Frypan.”  He turned to Thomas now and watched his eyes slowly turn to meet his own.  He knew they weren’t the same dreams, but it didn’t mean they didn’t cause him the same pain.  “Sometimes it’s you.”  Newt held Thomas’ gaze, searched to see if there was any hint of understanding.

            Newt knew Thomas mostly likely didn’t feel about Newt the way he did about Thomas.  Yes, they were best friends and there was a bond that formed between them that could never – would never – be broken.  But somewhere along the line, things changed for Newt.  That bond started to dig deeper into his chest, grab a tighter hold around his lungs and made it hard to breathe consistently around Thomas. 

            The dreams he’d been having – his friends being torn from him beneath the hands of masked WCKD guards – woke him far too frequently.  Thomas screaming, eyes built with fear and those lights gone from every part of him. 

            “I keep thinking,” Newt continued, quietly, “I’m gonna wake up and one of you will be gone.  Taken from me.”

            “That’s not gonna happen,” Thomas said, voice strong.

            Newt dropped his gaze to find his fingers dancing around each other.  Nerves, always nerves with Thomas.  Even after all this time.

            “Newt, we’re all still here.  WCKD isn’t going to take anyone else from us,” Thomas said.  “I won’t let them.”

            “I know you won’t, Tommy.” Newt nodded.  “I know.”

            Something dark inside of him threatened to push forward suddenly.  His hands stopped moving in his lap as he focused to swallow that darkness back down, keep it hidden and held back as it had been.  He straightened, determined not to let it come forward.  Not when Minho was gone.  He folded his hands and lifted his head.  “I think… when I see him, a joke about being shocked would be good.”  He turned to Thomas, twisting his mouth into what he hoped resembled a smile.  “I think he would appreciate that, seeing as he actually got shocked quite a few times.  What do you think?”

            Thomas smiled back at Newt, and Newt suddenly forgot what it was he’d been pushing back. “Yeah,” Thomas nodded, voice quiet.  “Yeah, that’d be pretty funny.”  
  
            “Come on, Tommy,” Newt nudged him with his shoulder.  “It’s hilarious.  Let’s see you come up with something better then.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh through his nose.  “I’ve got nothing.”

            Newt’s arm moved before he was aware it did and it was all too quickly around Thomas’ shoulders.  “It’s alright,” Newt laughed, enjoying the way Thomas’ shoulders seemed to ease at his touch.  “Comedy was never your strong suit.”

            “Hey!” Thomas jabbed an elbow into Newt’s ribs and something loosened inside of him at the touch, a laugh barking out of him.

            Newt knew Thomas most likely didn’t feel the same.  But then, Newt had never been one to let go of hope.

 

***

 

            Newt’s eyes sprang open as the truck jolted beneath him, sending him tumbling to the side.  He wasn’t even aware he’d fallen asleep, curled forward over his knees, until he very much wasn’t. Something firm stopped his complete fall against the bed of the truck and an embarrassing grunt came from him as he landed.  _Oh god._

            He blinked in the headlight and saw the shape of Thomas’ shins beneath him.  The sight was soon taken from him though as something suddenly jabbed him in eye.  “Thomas, you damn shank!” He swatted Thomas’ hand away and pushed himself up to sit properly.  “Poke my bloody eye out next time, why don’t you?”

            “Sorry, I didn’t know that was you.”

            _Didn’t know it was me, my arse. Who else would it be?_  “Fell over,” he mumbled as he rubbed the attacked eye with the heel of his hand.

            “What happened?” Frypan asked, sitting up on the other side of Newt.

            “I don’t know,” Thomas answered, moving to lean over the edge of the truck.

            Newt blinked, pressing his eyes together repeatedly until his vision came back.  His stomach turned at the sight of Thomas’ hands gripping the edge of the truck. 

            “Thomas?” Frypan asked.  “I don’t like that look on your face.”  Frypan skidded past Newt and leaned over the edge next to Thomas.

            Newt ignored the darkness pooling in his chest.  “What is it?” he asked.

            There was a pause that swallowed the light before Thomas answered.  “The passage is blocked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Have another chapter. 
> 
> 1\. Newt constantly putting on a cheerful smile for Thomas is 100% canon. Hmph. He's worried about Thomas - he has so much to deal with. So Newt decides that - just like back in the Glade with Alby - he will do what he can to keep Thomas going.
> 
> 2\. Newt's Memory/Dream - Poor Dmitri lol had a bit too much of Gally's brew the night before. Seems everyone did. Have a memory from when Newt was still a Runner. And then have it spoiled by a nightmare of Alby being taken away. :|
> 
>  
> 
> That's really all the notes I have for this chapter. Thomas has lots of decisions to make, his mind is preoccupied. I'm sure Newt will find a way to break this barrier down for him.. ;)


	4. On Stones and Stumbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Newt Probably Has Brain Damage, There's Simply No Other Explanation

            Newt stood with arms crossed, just behind Thomas.  Though his eyes were set on Joe and Vince, he could tell Thomas’ leg was bouncing away, nerves spiraling inside of him. Thomas was blaming himself for this, which was absolutely ridiculous to Newt.  But then, Thomas had a habit of taking the blame for a lot of things he had no control over.  Newt often wondered how much of it had to do for the fact that he’d worked for WCKD.  How much time did Thomas spend blaming himself for things that he had no recollection of?  How much time did he spend blaming a person who didn’t exist anymore?

            Newt’s thoughts were cut off as he watched Joe shift suddenly.  Vince snatched him back and the stone rolled over the back edge of the pile.  Newt smiled to himself.  This could work. 

            Everyone rushed forward at once, clamoring over each other and eager to cut a path through the wall.  Vince stopped them a quick breath into it.

            “This is great,” Joe added, “but these rocks are heavy.  I want at least three of you – maybe four – to a stone. Don’t strain yourself.  Nobody’s good to us if they’re hurt.  If you can’t get one stone, move onto the next one.  Only work on this side of the cave.”  He emphasized this with a knock on a few of the rocks next to him on the lower half.  “It’s too dark in here to be out of the reach from the headlights.  Take your flashlights if you have them.  Remember: we just need enough room to get the trucks past.  We’re gonna work in three teams.  Vince, me, and Jorge.  Spread yourselves out by strength.  Now is not the time to act tougher than you are.”

            Vince nodded. “Speaking of which: Joe, you take four.  No offense, but you could use the help.”

            Joe’s seriousness and order broke as he laughed, and Newt saw the young face of the person they met not too long before this.  “None taken.  These lanky arms aren’t fooling anyone, trust me.”

            Vince pat him on the back before turning to the group again.  “Matt. Harriet.  You’re with me.”

            As Harriet and Matt made their way up the rocks, Joe took a step to the left, shimmying his way over to the center of the pile.

            “Right,” Jorge said from the other side of Thomas.  “Brenda. Thomas.”

            “Sure,” Newt laughed. “You take all the strong ones, Jorge.”  He turned immediately and followed Frypan and the others to where Joe was working his way to the other side of the rocks.  He paused ahead of the wall and eyed the stones, focus set low in his right leg. 

            “Come on, Newt,” Frypan said quietly. 

            He bit down on the caution in Fry’s voice and began to climb.  The pressure was a familiar pain branching up his leg and it settled just above his knee as he pushed his way up to the next rock. 

            Josh and Bernard set themselves next to each other and braced their arms on the rock ahead of them.  Newt’s eyes caught on the shifts of muscle in Bernard’s arms.

            “Newt,” Joe nodded at him. “Why don’t you come over here with me?  Frypan, you can be the middle guy.”

            Newt kept his eyes on the stones as he pulled himself up and over the topmost one.  He didn’t think about the way Fry’s hand was a solid presence at his back, nor the way Joe grabbed his arm to steady him on the other side. He was a teetering vase to them that could shatter at any moment.  But Newt knew better.  He knew he’d shattered long ago.

            “Easy, Newt,” Joe said, tightening his grip as Newt swung his leg over the rocks.

            “I’ve got it.”

            Joe’s hand lifted from him, but it hovered behind.  Newt hated it.  He hated the caution, the reaching out, the worrying.  Joe had only known him a week and already knew that Newt was the one to be watched, to be taken care of.  Newt fixed himself between Joe and Frypan and pushed the thoughts from his head.

            “Alright,” Joe started, looking at the four of them.  “Weight even between your legs.  Newt and I will pull, you three push.

            “You sure you don’t want someone else on your side?” Bernard asked.  “No offense, but me and Fryboy can probably lift more than the three of _you_ combined.”

            Newt shot Fry a look when he laughed and Josh landed a solid punch to Bernard’s arm.

            “Hey,” Joe warned.  “Not while we’re up here.  Save the violence for solid ground.”

            The punching stopped as Joe continued to instruct them, but Newt didn’t miss the way Bernard’s mouth quirked up in a smile.

 

            The five of them worked in stride and Newt’s back strained as he pulled.  He continued to push away the fire that was burning in his right calf.  He grit his teeth, Fry’s groan echoing along the cavern, the others’ joining in steadily.

            “Alright hang on,” Joe panted. “Hang on.”

            Relief flooded Newt as he relaxed his muscles and shifted himself to lean on his left leg. 

            Joe wiped the back of his hand on his forehead before he unzipped and shrugged off the thin jacket.  He balled it up and arced it over the others and let it fall to the opposite side.

            Newt’s eyes flicked up as Bernard smacked Josh’s hand away from his face suddenly.

            “Stop scratching at it.”

            “It’s fuckin’ itchy,” Josh said as he dropped his hand.  Newt’s eyes immediately found the long scar across his jaw.

            “It’s probably getting infected. Have Harriet look at it later.”

            “Yeah,” he snorted.  “That’ll go well.”

            “What happened?” Newt asked suddenly.

            Josh’s eyes shifted to Newt.  “You should see the other guy.”

            Bernard rolled his eyes. “It’s from the raid.”

            “At the Right Arm?” Newt asked.

            “Yeah, saving this dumbass,” Josh laughed, elbowing Bernard in the ribs.

            Despite Josh’s ease at the topic, something darkened on Bernard’s face.

            There was a loud crash then and they whipped their heads to the side.  In the faint light, Newt could just make out Thomas’ silhouette leaning over a rock, looking down at another boulder that had just broken apart at the bottom. 

            “And there’s only three of them,” Josh groaned.

            “It’s alright,” Joe said as he snapped his fingers.  “Let’s go.  Focus.”

            “Guess you were right about those muscles, huh?” Frypan murmured.

            Newt kept his eyes on the stone.

 

            There was another cheer somewhere to his left and then Newt felt himself move backward too quickly. A hand was at his shirt collar immediately, tugging him to the left and he spun to watch the boulder fall to the ground.

            “Shit,” Newt breathed.

            “See?” Joe said, smile forming.  “We got this.”

            “My arms hurt,” Josh sighed.

            “Pull it together,” Joe said, shifting his legs onto two lower rocks.  “Next rock.”

            Fry’s hand uncurled itself from Newt’s collar.  Newt nodded a thank you to him and lowered himself to Joe’s level.  Next rock. 

            The granite was rough against his palms as Newt scraped them against it, pushing back the memory of cool stone beneath his hands long ago.  His nails ached, his shoulders cramped and his leg was on fire.  He shifted once more and pulled. 

            “Come on, come on, come on,” Fry gritted out, shoulder pressed against the rock.

            Josh muttered something in Spanish as he set his forearms against it, shoulders shaking, and Bernard merely pushed in silence, arms locked and palms flat against it.

            Joe was nearly bent completely over the stone, pulling from the other side.

            Newt felt useless as his arms continued to turn to water.  Pins and needles stuck him at a rapid pace, racing up and down his leg, spending extra time dancing around his ankle.  He shifted slightly to the left and let the blood flow through.  He continued to pull.

            The pins and needles came back quickly.

            He grit his teeth as another stone fell somewhere to the left, echoed by a breathy cheer. 

            He just needed to reset his leg so he could focus more on pulling and not on that pain.  He lifted it from the foothold and balanced heavily on his left. 

            His nails scraped the granite as he slid.  Something came undone below him and he suddenly jutted backward.  He thought he heard someone call his name as his hands slid from the rock.

            There was a flash of a muted sunrise, stone and ivy

            And then a hand grabbed him, though it didn’t stop him from falling.  He shut his eyes as a weight pushed into him and its momentum spun him round.  He felt arms tighten around him before there was impact against his ribs, the side of his head banged off the ground and a ringing sound blared through him.  He blinked his eyes open in time to see fear flash across Joe’s face below him before he spun them round again.  Newt’s back scraped against the concrete, but he forgot about it instantly.  The last thing he saw before he shut his eyes and turned his head against Joe’s shoulder was that goddamn stubborn boulder falling toward them. 

 

            Sound came back in a muffled cloud against the ringing.  He tried to inhale, but something lanced through his ribs and he exhaled quickly to ease it.  His arm was pinned between his chest and Joe’s. The other stretched out at his side, stinging.

            “Fuck,” Joe gritted out at Newt’s ear. “My leg.”

            Newt took in another shallow inhale.

            A weight was suddenly released and Newt opened his eyes as he took in an easier breath.  The others were crowded around, speckled with colored dots and blurred edges.  He closed his eyes.

            “Newt, you alright?” Thomas’ voice asked from somewhere.  There were hands on either side of his face now.

            Newt’s eyes opened and Thomas’ face swam into view upside down.  Small cuts speckled his forehead and cheeks.  Newt’s mouth fell into a smile as he spoke up to him.  “Hiya, Tommy.”

            “Jesus Christ,” he exhaled.

            “Not quite,” Newt laughed, another sharp pain striking through him.

            Vince and Harriet slowly slid Joe off of him and Joe’s voice rang out in a painful cry.  Newt shifted his eyes down, but couldn’t see much through the cloud in his vision.

            Vince called out for Frypan to get a medpack and then his voice lowered.  “Joe, can you hear us fine?”

            A burning pain built in Newt’s head and he lifted the arm from his chest and covered his eyes from the lights of the torches around him. 

            “Newt, you okay?” Thomas asked.

            He strained.  “Tell me it’s not broken.”

            “What?”

            “Joe’s leg, Thomas,” he breathed.  “Tell me he’s okay.”  Silence answered him and he slid his arm from his eyes to look up at Thomas, letting the torchlights burn into them.

            He watched Thomas’ throat bob as he swallowed and then he nodded down at Newt.  “He’s fine, Newt.”

            Newt heard the lie before Thomas even spoke.  He turned his head to look down at Joe, but Thomas’ hands tightened around him and angled him so that all he could see was Thomas.   “He’s sitting up,” Thomas said.  “He’s gonna be fine.  Let’s get you to the truck.  Can you stand?”

            Newt swallowed and then nodded slightly in Thomas’ grasp.  His leg throbbed, but that was nothing new.

            “Okay,” Thomas nodded. “Okay, slowly.  Move with me.”  Thomas slid to the side and bent low, lifting Newt’s arm. “Put your arm around my shoulders.”

            Newt let his arm slink around them and focused on the salt and sweat scent and not on the images of ivy and stone that blossomed again in his mind.

            “I’ll get the other side,” Newt heard Matt offer as he hopped over, but Thomas’ hand shot out.

            “Don’t touch him!”

            Matt froze and the two of them locked eyes above Newt.

            “Don’t touch him,” Thomas repeated.  “I’ve got him.  Go help the others.”           

            Newt furrowed his brow at Thomas, wondering why he was so adamant against Matt helping.

            “Are you sure?” Matt asked.  “I can get his other ar-”

            “No.” Thomas looked down at Newt.  “Can you sit up for me?”

            Newt narrowed his eyes just slightly at Thomas.  He didn’t understand why Thomas was so quick to shut the others out.  He’d always been slightly defensive, but lately it seemed to dominate his personality.  At some point, Thomas had shut down something inside of him.

            Newt decided he’d have to talk to Thomas about this, but what would he even say? How would he breach the topic without making Thomas shut him out as well?  He swallowed the questions and pushed up on his arm in attempt to sit.  He felt Thomas’ arm curl around his back and pull him closer.  Newt angled his other arm and used Thomas to pull himself forward, gritting his teeth at the pain that shot through his ribs and back. 

            “It’s okay, Newt. Easy.”

            Newt was able to lift himself fully for a moment, arm straining as he continued to hold himself up, but his ribs protested at the curve and his right shoulder suddenly blossomed in pain as he pushed up.  He fought through it, but eventually let his muscles loosen and he dropped back a bit.  “Tommy, I need someone else on this side.  My arm.  I can’t…” his ribs ached as he inhaled.  He looked up to where Matt stood over him still, concern in his eyes.  “Matt, please?”

            Matt’s arms immediately unfolded from his chest as he began to crouch down and reach for him.

            “Wait.”  Thomas held out a hand again.

            Newt shifted his eyes to Thomas and now his confusion turned into annoyance.  “Thomas, you can’t carry me on your own.  Just let him help.”

            Thomas looked down at him, brows coming together.  There was fear in his eyes before they hardened over and he looked up at Matt.  “Go easy, we move slow.”  
  
            “Yeah, man,” Matt nodded, holding his palms out to Thomas in defense.  “I got it.”

            “On three,” Thomas directed.  He looked back down at Newt.  “Newt, are you able to push up with your legs a bit?”

            “Yeah, they’re okay I think.  It’s mostly my back.”

            “Let’s go,” Thomas nodded.  “One, two.”

            Newt let the others pull him up, arms cradling him at his back. He pushed up with his legs, right knee buckling slightly, but Matt’s hand was immediately at his side to balance him.  He stood between them, shifting his arms around both of their shoulders, and then they started to walk slowly toward the other end where the rubble was easier to climb over and walk through.

            “Easy, Matt,” Thomas said.

            “I’m barely moving.”

            Newt grit his teeth.  He couldn’t bother to spend time thinking about Thomas’ attitude toward Matt.  The pain lancing through his leg built up a coursing river in his stomach.  He let himself lean a bit more toward Thomas, weight settling mostly in his better leg.

            “You’re doing great, Newt.” Thomas offered.  “Almost there.”

            “Bloody hell, Tommy. I don’t need a narration of the walk.” He breathed out a shallow laugh. 

            Thomas turned to him and smiled.  “Just trying to be encouraging.

            “You’re being annoying.”

            “I’m being caring,” he corrected as they skirted another stone.

            Newt fought to keep the smile tame, nearly forgetting about the ache in his body in favor of the familiar ache in his chest.  The word slunk around Newt’s neck and nuzzled its way into his skin, curled up inside of his chest and beat in time with his heart.  _Caring._ The word tugged at a nerve inside of him.  He gave a slight squeeze to Thomas’ shoulder.

 

***

 

            Harriet could have been a bit gentler, he supposed.  When she reached Newt, seated on a stone next to the trucks, she immediately grabbed his arm and wrenched it up.

            “Ow,” Newt answered, dully.

            “You’ll live,” Harriet said.  “How high can you lift your arm?”

            “I’ll show you if you let go,” Newt laughed.

            She gave him a flat look before she dropped his arm.

            He raised it above his head. “Would you like me to wave it as well?”  
  
            “Put your arm down, Stick,” she said.  There was an eye roll, but the smile accompanying it betrayed her.  She turned and rummaged through the medpack.

            “How’s Joe?” Newt asked.

            “He, uh…” she rummaged a bit more, brows furrowed.  “He’ll be okay.”

            “Harriet.”

            “It’s definitely fractured.  His knee dislocated too, but at least that’s back in place.”  
  
            Newt swallowed.  He took a breath and pushed the thoughts from his mind.  “So you’re a medjack.”

            “A what?” she asked, still rummaging through the pack.

            “All the healing and stuff.”

            “Oh um, I was.  Just for a little bit.”  She turned to face him and grabbed his arm, the headlights glinting off the scissors in her hand.

            “Oi!” he shifted his shoulder back.

            “I have to cut your sleeve to get to your shoulder,” she explained.  “You’re bleeding, dumbass.”

            He hardened a look at her and then relaxed his arm.

            She snipped the sleeve from his arm and pulled it off completely.  “You see?”

            His eyes first found the gash on his forearm, and then trailed up to his shoulder and when he looked over it, he could see a bleeding scrape on the back of it.  There were lines cut through him where he must’ve slid on the ground at some point that he couldn’t recall.  A sudden flame shot up his arm and he sucked in a breath through his teeth as he looked back at his forearm. 

            Harriet pressed a damp cloth to his arm and held it in place.

            “The hell is that?” he asked.

            “Alcohol.”

            “From where?”

            She looked up at him.  “You know we actually had supplies on the mountain, right?”

            “It burns.”

            “That’s the dirt being cleaned out of it.  Don’t be a baby.”  
  
            “I’m not!” Newt laughed.  “Doesn’t mean it won’t sting any less.”  Indeed, this felt like nothing they’d used in the Glade for scrapes and cuts.

            “Well, enjoy it.  It’s going on your shoulder next. And then your face.”

            “My face?” Newt asked as he brought his free hand up to it, tracing from his cheek to his jaw.  He immediately felt a small pain and pulled his hand away to see a small bit of blood.  “I didn’t even land on my face.”  
  
            “Don’t worry,” Harriet said as she lifted the cloth and dabbed the cut with a dry one.  “You’ll still be pretty as ever. It’s just a small scrape.”

            Newt smirked at her.  “Think I’m pretty, do ya?”

            She looked up at him but said nothing.  She took the cloth away and tossed it onto the medpack.  “Turn,” she commanded, spinning him. 

            He felt the alcohol on his shoulder and grit his teeth, letting his eyes fall closed at the pain.

            “It’s your eyes,” she said quietly.

            “Hmm?”

            “Your eyes,” she repeated.  “They remind me of someone I knew.”

            Newt opened his eyes and stared at the ground ahead of him where the light of one of the trucks flooded across.  “Someone from your Maze, I take it?”

            Harriet took a breath behind him and he felt a pressure come off of his shoulder.  It was replaced a moment later.  “Don’t need to talk about it.  Just know it’s probably the only thing I like about you.”

            Newt snorted.  “Oh, come on.  Am I really that bad?”

            “Jury’s still out.”

            Newt smiled.  He would take that for now.

            She spun him around again and dabbed a cloth with the alcohol.  A moment later it was pressed to his jaw and he winced at the sting, his eyes falling closed.  It was gone a mere second later.  “Uh, here,” she said.

            He opened his eyes to see her handing him the cloth, her eyes set on it.  His brow furrowed, but he took it from her. 

            “Just hold it against your jaw for a minute.  I’ll be right back.”

            She was gone before he had a chance to ask.  He held the cloth to his jaw.  He turned to look over his shoulder to find Thomas sitting some ways off, shirt now scrunched up his back, Brenda holding a cloth to scratches that ran down it.  Newt pulled himself to face forward again.

            “Okay, you can stop,” Harriet said, returning.  She took the damp cloth from him and handed him a dry one.  “Just dab it, don’t rub.” 

            He did as she commanded and then handed it back.

            She began to bandage up the cuts on his arm and shoulder with strips of cloth and medical tape.

            “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

            “Hmm?”

            “Whoever she was, I’m sorry.”

            Harriet’s hands stuttered in their work. 

            He let her work in silence for the remainder of the time.

 

           

            He shifted against the door in the backseat.  The seatbelt was angled awkwardly across his waist and hips as his legs extended to the other side of the truck, bent just slightly to fit.  His knee continued to ache, but this was nothing new.  He let his head fall back on the cool glass of the window. 

            The passenger door opened suddenly and Newt opened his eyes to see Thomas crawl in.

            “Newt? You good?” he asked closing the door behind him.

            “Yeah, terrific,” he laughed.

            Thomas knelt on the passenger seat and leaned on the headrest to look back at him.  Newt watched as his eyes scanned his face and arm, and something stirred inside of him - embarrassed. 

            “How is it?” Thomas asked, nodding at his arm.

            Newt lifted it and glanced down at the bandage.  “Stings like a Griever.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh.  “Like you’d know”

            Newt shifted his gaze up to meet Thomas’.  “Hmm,” he smiled.  “That’s your department, yeah?”

            “I guess.”

            Newt dropped his arm and turned to look out the back window, squinting in the headlights.  “How’s Joe?”

            “He’ll be okay. Jorge is gonna drive his truck.  Brenda’s gonna drive Jorge’s.  Or something like that.”

            Newt looked back at him, brows raised. “Brenda is gonna drive Bertha?”

            Thomas laughed.  “I guess.”

            “I can see that, actually.”

            “I guess.”

            Newt sighed.  “Do you know any other responses, Tommy?”

            Thomas smirked at him, “I guess.”

            Something lightened inside of Newt at Thomas’ smile.  “If my arm didn’t sting so bloody much, I’d be reaching over to hit you about now.”

            “Lucky me.  Look at those muscles,” Thomas laughed back at him.

            “Good that,” Newt felt the heat rise in his cheeks and turned to look at his bare arm, and then the other one, still covered.  “Least Harriet could’ve done was cut both sleeves.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “Minho would be having a field day right now.”

            “Remind me to change my shirt before we see him.”

            There was a small breathy laugh and then sudden movement.  Newt looked up to watch as Thomas kneeled with one leg on the seat and stepped over the center console with the other to stand half in the backseat. He ducked low against the ceiling and reached his hands over to the remaining sleeve of Newt’s shirt and pulled hard.

            “Bloody hell, Tommy!”  Newt shouted, flinching a bit.

            Thomas pulled at the cloth again and, in a quick ripping sound, Thomas was able to pull the sleeve apart.  The cloth fell down Newt’s forearm, bunching around his wrist. “There,” Thomas smiled. “Now you look like a real shank.”

            Newt turned his head from his now-bare shoulder to look at Thomas, far too close.  He felt his throat constrict swiftly.

            The driver side door opened and Newt flinched again as Thomas straightened, instantly hitting his head on the ceiling of the truck.  Newt couldn’t help the snicker that broke out of him as Thomas continued to push himself backward and then awkwardly fell into the passenger seat, trying to pull his leg back over the console.

            Vince slid himself into the truck and pulled the door shut.  “Alright, boys.  We ready?  Newt, you doing okay back there?”

            “Right and cheery,” he laughed, eyes still on Thomas as he fidgeted.

            Thomas cleared his throat in the front seat.  “Let’s go.”

            Newt let his laughter settle in his chest as he leaned his head back again and closed his eyes.

            “Not right now, Vince,” Thomas muttered in the front of the truck.

            Newt furrowed his brow and looked up as Vince adjusted the rearview mirror and shifted the truck in drive.

            “Seatbelt, Thomas,” Vince said.  “Don’t want any more accidents and this is gonna get bumpy.”

            Newt heard the slide and click of the seatbelt and then Thomas turned in his seat to eye his.

            “I’m fine, Thomas,” Newt sighed.  “You’re gonna break your neck if you keep looking back here every three minutes to check on me.”

            “Who said I’m checking on you?” Thomas shrugged.  “Maybe I just wanna make sure your arm isn’t bleeding all over my bag,” Thomas grinned before turning back to the front.

            “Right,” Newt laughed.  “The arm with the muscles, yeah?”  Something stuttered in his brain and he was immediately convinced he had done damage up there in the fall.  There was no other explanation why he would bring up Thomas’ throw-away comment like that.  Definitely brain damage.

            “Alright boys,” Vince said. “Put the flirting on the back burner.  Time to focus.”

            Newt swallowed and shot his gaze up to the rearview mirror.  Vince’s eyes were on the dashboard, casual as ever, as if he didn’t just make a vital implication.  Newt slowly shifted his eyes to Thomas where he turned his face to look forward, seemingly unaffected.  Perhaps Thomas didn’t hear him.  Or maybe Thomas, like any normal person, just let the comment breeze by. Newt didn’t consider himself an obvious person, but he made a mental note to keep his mouth shut regarding physical descriptions of Thomas from that point forward.  In fact, maybe he’d just stop describing anything about Thomas. 

            Something faded inside of him as Vince started driving.  The truck revved and drove over the first small pile of rubble, jostling the group back and forth, and Newt’s head banged back against the window.  He inhaled sharply through his teeth and brought up a hand to rub the bruise.

            “Newt?” Thomas’ voice called back.

            “Yeah,” Newt gritted out through his further embarrassment. “Yep, I’m good!”

            The truck shifted again.

            “Hold tight, another pile!” Vince called.  A second later, Vince’s hand grabbed Thomas’ shoulder and pushed him against the seat.  “Sit normal, Thomas. You’re no good if you smash your head on the headrest.  Now hold tight.”

            Newt bit down on his smile, but lost it as the truck revved briefly and shot up and over another pile of rocks.  The seatbelt dug into him and something shot through his leg as it banged sideways against the seat. They crashed back down onto the floor and the back wheels followed with another bump and crash.

            His ribs ached.  “What I wouldn’t do for some of Gally’s brew after this,” he laughed, trying to ease both the pain and embarrassment.  Thomas, of course, sat four feet away – unbothered and unharmed – and Newt cursed himself for how rattled he was by the entire exchange earlier.  His head swam and blurred visions of Thomas standing so close to him washed over.  The way he leaned so close toward Newt when he helped lift him.  And then it was a gutted shame of having to be lifted, helped.  Having to be taken care of.  And there, beneath all of those feelings, was the small kernel of guilt that tugged at a string inside of him, reminding him that he’d done it all to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey theeerrrreeee. I got a lot of work done on this story this weekend so I decided to post another chapter. Wooooo. Clearly there is still no set schedule yet, but hopefully I'll be able to figure something out soon.
> 
> Onward to the notes!
> 
> 1\. I'm so excited I got to get this chapter out! I was finally able to talk about the fall and how the cave-in came to fruition. Poor Newt, he didn't mean it. He was just trying to help. He was just trying to ease the pain. Thank god for Joe though. Poor boy almost got crushed by a boulder. :<
> 
> 2\. Newt's allowed to check out other guys sometimes, sue him. It's not like Thomas is ever gonna return any kind of feeling anyway.......................................probably.........
> 
> 3\. Have a hint at something that went down at the Right Arm attack with Josh! (So bizarre writing these notes.. I'm trying not to put spoilers for anyone who stumbled upon this and hasn't read tmh? But I feel weird being like HMMM WONDER WHAT THIS IS!!!! when it's clearly been written before :| lol)
> 
> 4\. Thomas has a hard time trusting people, especially now. Newt wishes he would take it down a bit, remember that people like Matt are on their side. Maybe Newt can help with that.
> 
> 5\. Have a Harriet/Newt moment! Harriet sure likes those eyes.. 
> 
> 6\. The Sleeve Rip <3 
> 
> 7\. Newt is too embarrassed for his own good. Poor boy needs to stop panicking so much about his actions and what he says. :/
> 
> 8\. No memory section in this chapter - sorry! But more are coming ahead <3
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this side of the incident! The chapters are finally getting closer to normal lengths now lol See you all soon <3


	5. On Relief and Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Sometimes it Helps to Talk

            Newt couldn’t help the relief that passed over him as they left the tunnels, the darkness and the entirety of that moment.  The sunlight was warm and the breeze flowed to the back of the truck from Vince’s open window and washed over him.  He closed his eyes against it and breathed it in.

            The memory of the tunnel still nagged at him, but he was able to push it back and tuck it against the corner of his mind alongside other threatening reminders.  Instead, he thought about the open atmosphere up here in the mountains, the red craggy stone and sanded rocky trails that have become familiar over the last week.  He could still see it perfectly behind closed eyes. 

            Yes, his leg cramped.  Both of them, if he was being honest.  The back bench of the truck was a small resting place – too short to be anything Newt could stretch his legs fully across.  And so they stayed bent and, as the hours passed, the ache built inside of them, steady and waiting for relief. 

            His shoulder ached dully where it leaned against the car door, but it was nothing Newt couldn’t manage and tame with a shift every so often.  His forearm buzzed and stung, but he didn’t think about that.  He thought instead of his other arm and the soft fabric still bunched up at his wrist.

 

            _‘Well?” Frypan laughed as he scooped extra eggs into Newt’s bowl._

_“Well what?” Newt asked, brow lowered._

_“What do we think of the Greenie?”_

_Newt kept his gaze level and decided not to let Frypan’s smirk get the better of him.  Instead, he shrugged.  “He barely had a day here. I have no idea.” He looked up at Fry as his spatula hovered over the tray of bacon.  Newt simply shook his head._

_“He’s in the fields with you today, right?” Fry continued._

_“He’s in the fields with Zart today,” Newt corrected, “I’ll just be overseeing to make sure he doesn’t mess up anything too badly.”_  
  
            “Of course,” Frypan winked at him.

_Newt turned and made his way to the empty tables that had been set up on the side of the cooking hut.  He slid onto the bench next to Ben._

_“How’re you feeling today?” Minho asked into his cup of water._

_“Fine,” Newt answered skeptically.  He waited for the hammer to dro-_

_“You were feelin’ pretty nice last night after all that drink, weren’t you?”_

_And there it was.  He fought the urge to roll his eyes as he stabbed his fork into the eggs. “I’m fine. Are you two okay?” he said glancing between the two of them._

_Minho shrugged. “Didn’t drink.”_

_Newt turned to eye Ben._

_Ben stayed suspiciously quiet._

_Minho snorted. “He’s moving a bit slow, but he’ll be fine.”_

_“Right,” Newt nodded to his plate.  “As long as you two don’t get lost out there today.”_

_“What’s the deal with the Greenie?” Ben asked._

_“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Newt looked up at him._

_Ben glanced at Minho and then back at Newt, confused. “I’m just curious to know what job he’s getting. I didn’t mean anything by it.”_

_Newt went back to stabbing his eggs, ignoring the small snicker from Minho.  “Don’t worry about him.  Worrying about getting your quadrant done today.”_

_“Aye, sir,” Ben nodded._

           

            When the cars slowed to a stop a few hours later, Newt blinked his eyes open and the fogged sleep dripped slowly from his head. 

            “Gotta refuel,” Vince said, answering the unasked questions.  “Cars and ourselves.”  He slid out of the seat and Newt rolled his shoulders as his body started to wake back up.

            “Sure,” he groaned through the movement.  “Could use a stretch anyway.”

            Thomas left the car and Newt took the moment in the empty car to reach down to his knee and press his thumb into the muscle just above it.  There was a building cramp there and the last thing he needed was the others to see was him falling out of the car because of it.

            But then, he should’ve known it’d happen one way or another.

            The door was pulled open from where he had been leaning on it and his body rocked backward suddenly.  “Oi!” He landed against something solid.  “Warn a boy!”

            “Sorry,” Thomas amended, sliding his arms beneath Newt’s, holding him up.  “I forgot you were sitting this way.”

            Newt closed his eyes and felt the heat creep up the back of his neck and into his cheeks.  Of course. Of course he’d fall anyway and of course it would have to be into Thomas.  The universe was clearly against him and he must have been paying for something he’d done wrong in a past life. 

            It was a breath later that he realized Thomas was still holding him in place.  “Tommy?” he asked, voice small, suddenly wondering if he might have hurt him. But then, that would just go hand-in-hand with the rest of his day.

            “Yeah?” Thomas asked quietly.

            “You wanna, erm, move so I can get out?”

            “Right, yeah, of course.”

            Newt felt Thomas step back a bit and Newt swung his legs from the bench so he could sit up.  His leg burned with the ache and he decided he’d rather forego yet another embarrassing moment, so he grit his teeth and linked an arm around Thomas’ offered shoulder and shuffled out of the truck onto his better leg.  He slowly lowered the other to the ground and pressed down on the pain.  He dropped his arm from Thomas’ neck, closed the door, and mumbled a quick _thanks_.

            “Yeah, of course,” Thomas responded, too casual for Newt’s liking.

            Newt turned and walked alongside Thomas toward the wall of the mountain where everyone seemed to be congregating in the shade.

            “Hey Newt?”

            “Mm?”

            “What, uh…” Thomas’ voice trailed off.

            Newt turned to where Thomas stopped walking and he squinted up at him, watched the small lines form between his eyebrows as something unspoken turned over in his head.  His eyes stayed on Newt and, though he knew it was stupid, some small part of him nudged a feeling of hope into his chest.  “Spit it out, Tommy.”

            “Your leg,” he said, eyes dropping to it.

            Newt’s heart plummeted.  The much bigger part of him stomped into his chest and punted the hope back to its corner.

            “What happened to-?”

            “Oh, this?” Newt cut him off, shaking is leg out in front of him and ignoring the way his tendons protested at the sudden movement.  He didn’t care, he’d work through the pain if it meant avoiding this conversation.  He’d take the pain over that any day.  “Just gets achey sometimes, that’s all.  It was fine in the fall.  Come on,” he turned and started walking toward the group again, focused on putting more weight on his leg and trying to walk like a normal person.  “I’m starving.”

            To his relief, it seemed to be enough of an answer for Thomas and the topic was dropped in favor of grabbing a sandwich.

 

            They ate stale bread and dried bits of salted meat in the shade of the mountain wall as the sun made its way to the other side of it.  The taste was awful, but Newt had worse before.  He had Frypan’s bacon.

            He looked up to Thomas, almost asked if he was enjoying the food, but then held the question back at the look on his face.  Thomas’ eyes didn’t stop as they looked around the camp and Newt followed his gaze to the others enjoying their reprieve from the trucks.  He flicked his gaze back to Thomas, down to the line that his mouth was set in, and then back up to his eyes.  Newt leaned back against the wall and exhaled.  “What’s going on, Tommy? I see wheels spinning.”

            Thomas’ eyes cleared a bit and he shifted to look at Newt now.  “Nothing, just thinking.”  
  
            “Yes, I’ve noticed,” he laughed.  “Which is why I asked.”

            Thomas let a small laugh out.  “Just worried about how we’re going to make this work after we run out of fuel.”

            “Mhm.  And what else?”

            “What do you mean?

            “Come on, Tommy,” he pressed. “I told you I see wheels spinning. And they’re spinning too fast for you to just be snagged on the trucks.  What’s going on?”

            Thomas blinked at him.  “I’m just worried about figuring out our next step.”

            “What, going down the mountain, you mean?”

            “Yeah, I guess.  And whatever comes after that.” 

            Newt watched Thomas’ eyes narrow, just a fraction.  He knew that look.  He wore that look often enough himself.  Guilt was familiar to him.  He pulled himself forward, ignored the shock through his body at the way his leg grazed against Thomas’, and looked directly at him now.  “You know that cave in wasn’t your fault, right?”

            “I knew it was a possibility and I still dragged us in there, Newt.  If I hadn’t made that decision you…” his words trailed off as his eyes tightened.

            “I what?”

            Thomas’ gaze dropped to his hands where they twitched against each other in his lap.

            “I wouldn’t have fallen?” Newt asked.  “I wouldn’t have single-handedly caused a disaster?” he said on a bitter laugh.

            Thomas looked up at him, brows furrowed.  “Newt, you didn’t-”

            “I did, Tommy,” he interrupted.  He shifted in his seat, tried to come off casual.  He’d originally vowed to keep the incident quiet and never bring it up, but Thomas needed to hear it.  There was no way Newt was going to let him take the blame for his own mistakes.  “Joe told us a million times to balance our weight between both of our legs.” He shrugged.  “Not so easy for me.”  Newt realized somewhere along the way, his own hands started fidgeting around each other and he watched as his fingers stumbled over one another. Though it was a simple statement of fact, saying it aloud dug into him.  Deprecation lodged itself in his throat.

            Thomas’ voice was quiet when he spoke.  “That doesn’t mean you caused it, Newt.”

            “It does, Tommy,” he laughed.  “It does.  I was leaning too far to the left, the rock I was on came loose below me and I fell.  Joe tried to catch me, of course, and then _he_ fell and -,” his voice caught in his throat as Joe’s voice played in his head _._ “Now _his_ leg…” his own voice faded then.

            “Newt,” Thomas said, soft. “That’s not your fault.”

            Newt lifted his gaze to meet Thomas’ and he spoke just as softly.  “It’s more mine than yours.”  He kept his gaze on Thomas, hoping to drive the point home – take the guilt from him. He spoke solidly this time.  “Remember that.  Keep making the decisions you need to, Thomas.  Things are going to happen whatever you decide.”

            Thomas watched him for a moment until a voice broke between them.  “Water?”

            Thomas looked up and Newt watched something flash in his eyes – not quite fear, not quite shock, but something between the two. A ghost.  “What?” he exhaled.

            “Do you want water?” Bernard repeated.  “We had some extra canteens in Joe’s truck.”

            Thomas’ brow furrowed and his eyes shifted across a memory before he dropped his gaze back to the sandwich in his lap.  “I’m okay, thanks.”

            Newt furrowed his brow and then looked up to Bernard, clearing his face into what he hoped was appreciation.  “I’ll take one, Bernard.”  He emphasized the name, hoped Thomas would pick up on it and stop referencing all the others in conversations as _the other immune guy_.  He reached up and took the canteen from him, nodded a thank you and looked at Thomas again as Bernard walked away. 

            Thomas only stared at his lap.

            And then it dawned on Newt – what the memory was that flashed in Thomas’ head when he looked up at Bernard.  It was blue eyes.  It was blue eyes and it was Teresa.  Because of course it was.  An exasperated sigh broke out from Newt as he put the canteen down next to Thomas.  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he gritted out.  “Wanna check on Joe.”

            “Sure.”

            Newt used the wall behind him to push himself up, fought against the frustrated roll of his eyes and walked across the space to Joe’s truck.  He needed to talk to someone who didn’t drive him to a blend of comfort and frustration at the same time.  

            He tapped a knuckle against the back window of Joe’s truck.  Joe shifted enough to look over his shoulder.  His face brightened and the window lowered.  “Hey there.”

            “Hey,” Newt leaned against the truck.  “How’re you feeling?”

            “Eh,” he shrugged.  “Been better.”  
  
            Newt felt his features flinch. “I’m sorry.”

            Joe was shaking his head before the words were even out.  “No, don’t apologize for this.”

            “Joe, I-”

            “Newt,” he insisted.  “Trust me, it’s okay.  I’ve been through much worse.” He laughed, a low dark thing.

            Newt’s brow furrowed.  “Worse than breaking your leg?”

            “Well, first, it’s not broken,” he tilted his head, “so there’s that.  But yes, worse than that.”

            Newt wanted to ask, wondered what could be worse than destroying part of yourself.  But then, he supposed he knew the answer already.

            Joe shifted again in the seat, turned a bit more to better face him.  “How’s everyone doing?”

            Newt looked out across the camp.  His eyes immediately found Thomas sitting next to Brenda.  Vince was watching Frypan as he slowly reversed the truck.  Harriet and Josh were talking heatedly over a shotgun.  Newt was suddenly reminded of his curiosity of what happened before they’d reached the Right Arm.

            “Newt?”

            He blinked back to Joe.  “Sorry,” he gestured to his head.  “Sometimes I tend to think more than I talk.”

            A small laugh issued from Joe.  “Yeah, I can see that.”

            “Sorry.”

            “Do you always apologize this much?”

            Newt looked up at him and felt a small smile curl up on his face.  “I never really noticed it before.”

            “I think I’ve counted about seven apologies in the last two minutes.”

            “Well that’s not right,” Newt laughed.  “That would acquire me to apologize nearly every seventeen seconds.”

            Joe lifted a brow.  “I was kidding, but good to know you’re quick with math.”

            Newt dropped his gaze and he couldn’t tell if he was more embarrassed at the constant apologies that seemed to spill out of him or the fact that he just calculated the odds of being able to apologize as often as Joe said he did.  Or that he didn’t realize it was a joke.

            “Okay,” Joe laughed.  “What’s going on with you?”

            “Me?” Newt asked looking back up at him.

            “Yeah, you,” Joe nodded.  “Your brows haven’t de-furrowed since you’ve been here and I’m starting to wonder if _I’m_ the one who pissed you off.”

            “What?” Newt asked, suddenly conscious of the way his brow furrowed even more.  “You didn’t piss me off.”

            “Well, that’s reassuring, but someone did.”

            Newt shifted a bit.

            “Come on, it’s boring in here,” Joe sighed.  “Give me the drama. What’s going on out there? Have Josh and Harriet gotten into it again? Did Matt reveal yet another embarrassing trait? Tell me Vince fell asleep in the middle of a conversation again. Anything.”

            “Wait, what?” Newt laughed, his face breaking into a smile as he shook his head.  “Did all of that actually happen?”

            “More than once,” Joe nodded. “I could tell you a million stories about those guys that would make your head spin.”

            Newt’s smile grew.  “Well? Let’s have it, then.”

            “Ah, an eye for an eye,” Joe tilted his head. “Who pissed you off?”

            Newt ran his tongue along his teeth.  “No one.  I’m not pissed, I’m just…” he searched for the words as his arms folded across his chest and his boot scraped against the ground.  “Frustrated,” he settled on.

            “Okay,” Joe pressed.  “Who’s frustrating you?”

            Newt looked back up at him.  Something about Joe made Newt want to open up, trust.  Something about Joe reminded him of the last person he felt like that around.  The last person who felt like an older brother.  He sighed, conceded, and answered.  “Thomas.”

            “Ah,” Joe said through a smile.  “There it is.”

            “There what is?”

            “I thought there was something between you two.”

            “What? Between me and… No,” he shook his head. “Me and Tommy?” The objections spilled rapidly from him. “No,” he laughed. “No, no.  There’s nothing… there’s no ‘me and Tommy’. Nothing’s between us.  That’s not… no.”  He stopped speaking as Joe’s mouth curled up on one side.

            “You’re stellar at this.  In a past life, you might’ve been a lawyer.”

            “Shove it,” Newt breathed out on a nervous laugh.

            “Okay so,” Joe continued.  “Tell me about this nothing between you and Tommy.”

            Newt’s eyes flashed up to Joe’s.

            A brow flicked up on Joe’s face.

            Newt cleared his throat and swallowed against the selfish, immature part of him that woke up at the nickname from someone else’s mouth. “Eye for an eye.”

            Joe let out a laugh at this and nodded. “Okay, okay, that’s fair.” His eyes roved for a minute and then he knocked on the door of the truck.  “Truck’s name is Lola. Your turn.”

            “Lola?” Newt repeated.

            “Yeah,” Joe nodded.  “ _L-O-L-A Lola_ ,” he sang in a low tune.

            Newt lowered a brow.

            “No? You don’t…?” he tossed his head back then.  “I forget. Maze kid.  It was a song.”

            “Sure,” Newt nodded.

            “It was!” Joe laughed.  “What? Jorge can drive around in a truck named _Bertha_ but I name my truck and suddenly it’s weird?”

            “You do whatever you’d like with your truck,” Newt quipped through a smirk.

            Joe leveled a look at him.  “No, no, don’t make it weird.”

            Newt bit down on the corner of his lip as a laugh shook through him.

            “It’s a good song,” Joe insisted.  “I’m gonna find it on one of these radio stations one day and make you listen to it.”

            “Sure, definitely,” Newt nodded through the sarcasm.

            “Fine,” Joe laughed.  “What do you wanna know?”

            Newt dropped his gaze, chewed a bit more at the corner of his lip.  “What did you mean by _something_?”  He looked up, hesitant.

            Joe blinked at him.  “I’m gonna need context. I tend to say that word a lot, you’ll notice.”

            Newt sighed. “You know what I’m talking about.”

            “Hmmm,” Joe feigned being lost in thought.  “Can’t recall.”

            Newt glanced around them quickly before he spoke.  “What did you mean by you thought there was something between me and Thomas?”

            Joe smiled and then actually seemed to think about it.  “I don’t know, just the..” he gestured vaguely with his hands.  “general…air around you two.”

            “The air,” Newt repeated.

            “Yeah,” he shrugged. “It’s like you two are in your own little bubble of like… comfort and… glee.”

            “Glee,” Newt repeated.

            “You two revolve around each other.”

            “What? No,” Newt shook his head and narrowed his eyes.  “I don’t…We don’t _revolve_ around each other.”

            Joe leveled another look at him.  “Newt, you look at the boy like he hung the damn stars in the sky.”

            Newt gaped wordlessly for a minute before he was able to speak.  “I… No. I don’t.”

            “You don’t have to deny it to me,” Joe laughed.  “I know the look.”

            “I don’t.”

            “You will,” Joe nodded.

            Newt looked at him questioningly, brow lowered.

            “Cuz he’s starting to look at you the same way.”

            Newt gaped wordlessly once more, shaking his head.  “No, he doesn’t… look at me in any _way_.”

            Joe shrugged.

            “I…wow,” Newt shook his head again.  “I suddenly regret even starting this conversation.”

            Joe laughed louder now. “What’s so bad about that?”

            “About what?”

            “About liking him?”

            “There’s nothing _bad_ about him.  It.” Newt furrowed his brow.  “Him.”

            “Then why’re you denying it?”

            “I’m not.”

            “So you _do_ like him.”

            “No, I… what? He’s… He’s not… I don’t… And even if…” Newt shook his head, eyes looking everywhere but Joe, mouth gaping wordlessly for the third time.  He decided that it was something he’d have to work on, closed it, sighed and then looked back at Joe.

            Joe simply quirked an eyebrow.

            “Fine!” Newt conceded.  A laugh broke out of Joe and Newt found it easy to join with his own.  He ran a hand down his face as the heat crept up the back of his neck.  Even so, something eased in his chest and Newt found it suddenly very easy to breathe.  “Not that bit about the stars though,” he added. 

            “Sure, sure,” Joe said, his laugh calming.

            Newt rolled his eyes, but he suddenly found he couldn’t pull the smile from his face.

            “Man, I miss that,” Joe said through his own smile, eyes caught somewhere in a memory.

            “Miss what?”

            Joe looked up at him then.  “Beginnings.”

            Newt tilted his head in question.

            “You know,” he waved a hand around.  “When everything’s new and fun and… and nervous.”  He took in a deep breath, but on the exhale, something changed in his features.  Something pained.

            Darkness clawed at Newt’s chest.  He spoke quietly, afraid he’d disturb the air.  “What was their name?”

            A muscle feathered in Joe’s jaw.  “Francesca.”

            “It’s a pretty name.”

            Joe’s eyes slid up to Newt.  “She had an even prettier face.”

            Newt’s mouth tugged back into a small smile.

            Joe rested his head back against the corner of the door. 

            “Was it recent?” Newt asked.

            “Some days it feels more recent than it was.”

            “I’m sorry,” Newt said, dropping his gaze.  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”  
  
            “Didn’t mean to bring down the mood,” Joe said on a dry laugh.

            “No,” Newt said, looking back up at him.  “No, I’d love to hear about her.  If you want to talk.”

            Joe worked his jaw over a few unsaid words and dropped his gaze to his hands.  “A few years ago, my truck broke down in some town way out East.”

            Newt leaned against the door, eyes set on Joe.

            “I walked up to the first nice house I saw – one that looked like there wouldn’t be Cranks hiding out in it – and knocked.”  He took a breath and continued.  “Some young kid opened up.  Couldn’t have been older than ten.  And he asked if I was sick,” he laughed.

            Newt smiled over a small laugh.

            “When I said no, he said _are you sure? You look sick.”_

            Newt laughed only a bit louder then.

            “Anyway, this goes on for a bit.  I explain that my truck was messed up and I was looking for someone to help with it.  And he insisted he check if I was indeed not sick.”

            “Wow,” Newt laughed. “Insistent.”

            “This goes on for a few more minutes and I’m about to give up and move to the next house when someone else joined us at the door.  And I looked up and…” he shook his head slowly, trapped in the memory.  “At the risk of sounding incredibly cliché, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”

            Newt’s smile widened.

            “She shooed her cousin back inside and asked me what I wanted, so I explained about my truck and I asked if anybody around could help out, and she said she can.  So, she comes out and starts fussing about under the hood of the truck and I just sat there watching her.  Now, in retrospect, it was probably kind of creepy and weird,” he laughed, “but I just couldn’t look away.  I was enraptured by her.”

            “She hung the stars in the sky, yeah?” Newt said through his smile.

            Joe looked up at him, happy.  “Newt, she hung the whole damn universe.”

            Somehow, it was possible for Newt’s smile to grow even wider.

            “Anyway,” Joe continued.  “A couple weeks later I circled back and finally asked her to come for a drive with me.  It took some time but I finally did _something_ to win her over – who even knows what,” he laughed.  And then his laugh faded as his eyes clouded over.  The smile slowly dropped as he lost himself to a memory.  “It was seven months ago.  We’d been traveling the Scorch, looking for the Right Arm.  She had to watch her cousin get taken from her by WCKD and she swore that if she ever had a kid, she’d do everything in her power to make sure they were never taken.”

            Realization crested over Newt and crashed down on his chest.

            “So, we started to search.  Me, her, her older brother and my best friend.”  He stopped then and stared into the space of the truck.

            “Does it help?” Newt asked. 

            Joe looked up at him questioningly.

            “To talk about it, I mean.”

            Joe’s eyes shifted, considered this.  Then he nodded.  “Yeah, yeah I think mostly it does.”

            “Tell me what happened.”

            Joe’s eyes flicked up to his again before he looked back down at his hands as if they held the memory between them.  “We found a safe house for a while with about ten or fifteen others, but WCKD found it and invaded so we ran.  Hid in an abandoned vehicle.  We stayed there for two days until we decided it’d be safe to move again.  Fran talked her brother through hotwiring the car, but there wasn’t any gas in it.  I’d considered going back to my truck at the safe house, but it was too much of a risk.  So, we searched radio stations and that’s how we heard about the Right Arm.”

            Newt nodded along silently, not wanting to interrupt.  He watched Joe’s features shift over certain bits, flinch at others.

            “We were able to find supplies in these old shops and we’d stop every few hours to recharge, make sure Fran was okay.”  He opened his mouth to continue, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.  He swallowed and tried again.  “There was a night that we’d camped against the back of a building.  I heard this sound – like this rustling – thought maybe it was an animal.  I grabbed a knife and went to look.”

            Newt swallowed.  “Cranks.”

            “Cranks,” Joe confirmed.  “Two of them.  I knew I should have just gone back, quietly woken the others and snuck out of there, but I wasn’t thinking right.  I convinced myself that if I turned around, they’d somehow see me and charge and if they found Fran…” he shook his head.  His jaw flexed as he bit down.  “It was horrible.  They’re just… they’re wild. There’s no sense of pain or thought.  It’s just reckless fighting.  Before I knew it they both had me pinned down and I remember thinking that that was it.  And I made a promise to myself that when they were done with me, if I was still alive, that I would kill myself.”

            Newt’s chest buckled in on himself and he leaned further against the truck, thankful it was there to keep him up.

            Joe lifted his head and took in a deep breath.  “But Larry came.  My friend.  Practically my brother.  He pulled them off of me and gave me a second chance.”

            Newt swallowed.

            “I told myself I wouldn’t let that go to waste.  So, I fought back.  Harder.”

            Newt’s eyes glazed over, but he immediately pushed the memory of his own second chance away.  He focused on Joe.

            “We were finally able to kill them but,” he shook his head. “When we went back around the building…”

            Newt dropped his gaze to the floor.  “Were there more?”

            “ _More_ is putting it lightly.”

            Newt swallowed.  “And Fran?”  He shifted his eyes up to Joe.

            Joe shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t even pick her out in the crowd of them.”

            Newt’s chest ached.

            “Larry had to basically drag me away and then I guess it was just adrenaline pushing me forward.  I didn’t let myself think about it.”  He shifted his position and continued.  “Time passed and Larry was good about it.  Helped me through it, kept me moving.  If it wasn’t for him, I don’t think I would have made it.”

            “Sounds like he’s a good person to have around.”

            “He was,” Joe nodded.

            Newt’s heart stammered in his chest at the word.

            “It was about a month later,” Joe continued.  “I didn’t recognize it at first.  Looking back, I should have seen it.  Should have noticed the signs.  He wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t eating.  He could barely focus on a conversation.  I figured it was the heat but he started repeating questions, answering ones I hadn’t even asked.  I caught him talking to himself in the middle of the night.  But it wasn’t to himself, he was convinced there was someone else there.”

            Newts heart pounded inside of him.  He never considered the change from human to Crank, never thought about what they went through to become the monsters they were.  He remembered the Crank that had attacked him in the abandoned mall weeks ago.  He was human once.

            “His legs shook, he kept stumbling and falling over and I thought it was just the heat or lack of food he’d been eating but,” Joe shook his head.  “The veins started appearing around his legs first.  Then his arms, his neck.”

            Newt swallowed.

            “He…” Joe worked his jaw over the words, shifted glassed eyes. “He woke me up in the middle of the night.”

            “Did he try to kill you?” Newt asks softly, fearing the answer.

            “No,” Joe said.

            Newt breathed a small sigh of relief.

            “He asked me to kill him instead.”

            A sudden flash of heat seared against Newt’s skin, contrasted with the cool metal gripped in his hand as he knelt down and pressed the gun into Winston’s hands.

            “I did.”

            Newt’s chest hollowed.  He didn’t know how long they sat in silence until he finally spoke back up.  “My friend was attacked by a Crank a few weeks ago.  Right before we met up with you all.”  
  
            Joe shifted his eyes to him.

            Newt folded his arms against his chest.  “He didn’t ask us to do it, maybe he knew we wouldn’t.  But he asked to be left behind,” Newt’s breath caught in his throat before he continued.  “He asked to be left behind with a gun.”

            Joe closed his eyes and dropped his head.  “I’m sorry, Newt.”  
  
            “Guess that’s just life now, isn’t it?”

            Joe looked up at him.

            Newt worked over the story, eyed Joe, and made a decision.  “I was stuck in our Maze for just over a year.  It was confined, but it was the only home I knew.  We had food, shelter.  I had friends.  But I didn’t have a way out.  And I knew there was, I knew there was a world beyond those walls and if I could just find it I’d… things would be okay, you know?”  He swallowed and shook his head.  “But there was no exit, not that we could find then anyway.  And I…” he exhaled, bit down and then continued.  “I couldn’t accept that.  I look back at that and I think… it was so easy, it was… I had what I needed. We all had what we needed but for some reason it just wasn’t enough.  Something was missing.  Something that I couldn’t remember and I thought that if I could just figure it out things would be fine.” He laughed out a dry, quiet breath.  “But I couldn’t.  So, I climbed one of the Maze walls.  And I jumped.”

            “Newt…”

            “It’s okay,” he nodded. He took a breath and nodded again.  “It’s okay, really.”

            “No, it’s not.”

            “It wasn’t,” Newt amended.  He looked down at his leg.  “And clearly it didn’t end so great.”

            “At least it didn’t end,” Joe said quietly.

            Newt shifted his gaze up to him.

            “I’m really glad it didn’t, Newt.”

            Newt swallowed against the rock in his throat.

            “And I’m really glad you’re here.”

            Newt watched him for a moment, considered the words.  When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.  “I think I am too.”

            Something tightened in Joe’s eyes and Newt’s chest ached as he started to wonder if he’d shared too much.  But then the ache faded and broke apart and suddenly something cool washed through him. 

            “Thank you for telling me,” Joe said quietly.

            Newt nodded.  He breathed.  “It’s the first time I’ve talked about it since it happened.”

            “Does it help?”

            Newt looked at him, questioning.

            “To talk about it?” Joe said, a small smile cresting.

            Newt smiled back at him.  “Yeah,” he nodded.  “I think it mostl-”

            Newt’s words were cut off by a loud crunch echoing around them, several rocks and dust swirling, and he flinched – ducked low against the truck and grabbed onto it.  The dust cleared and Newt straightened and caught Joe’s eyes as he lowered his hand and squinted across the way.  He turned, found Thomas standing with Brenda behind him, and followed his gaze off to the side where a cloud of dust and rubble settled around Vince’s truck.  It was backed up against the cave wall and suddenly Frypan appeared in the front window, waving through the swirling dust.  “Sorry, y’all! That was my bad!” he coughed out.  “Still getting the hang of this reversing thing.”

 

 

 

***  
  
  
  
            After the disaster that was Frypan reversing into the cave wall, Newt bowed out of the conversation to let Joe get some rest.  He let Harriet look over his cuts, dab more alcohol on his forearm, make fun of his name a little bit and then he shooed her off to help the others. 

            “Hey Newt!”

            He turned to see Bernard jogging toward him.  “Hey,” Newt nodded at him.  “What’s going on?”  
  
            “Nothing, just wanted to see if you were okay.  I know you fell pretty hard back there and I haven’t actually been able to ask you.”

            Newt flicked a brow up.  “Me?”

            “Yeah,” Bernard nodded and then laughed.  “What?”

            “No, I just,” Newt shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            “I mean, you’re part of the team,” Bernard explained.  “Wanna make sure you’re okay.”

            “Thanks,” Newt shuffled awkwardly.  “I’m good.  Joe seems like he’s doing okay, too.  He’s got a cast on now.”

            “Yeah, I helped Harriet put that together for him.”  
  
            “Oh,” Newt tilted his head.  “You made that?”

            “Mostly Harriet.  I just assisted.  Handed her supplies when she asked for it, to be honest,” he snorted.

            Newt let a small laugh bubble from him.  “Yeah, she seems to spend a lot of time alone.”

            “She didn’t always,” Bernard shrugged.  “At the Right Arm she and her girlfriend actually spent a lot of time with everyone else.  They helped pull a lot of the group together.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah,” Bernard nodded. “They set up a group of people as a Mountain Watch.  Taught everyone how to assemble a shotgun and she worked with Joe to create what was basically a first line of defense in case we were ever attac…” he shifted his eyes and looked down to the ground.  “Well, not from the skies, anyway.  Guess we really didn’t consider that option.”

            Newt bit down on his lip and then offered a low apology.

            “No, man,” Bernard said as he looked back up.  “It’s not your fault.”

            “Well, no. But, we brought her with us.”

            Bernard shrugged.  “You didn’t know she was gonna do that, did you?”  
  
            Newt shook his head, surprising himself at the honesty of it.  There was a time he actually did trust Teresa.  Simply because Thomas did.  As if on cue, he heard Thomas’ voice suddenly – harsh and clipped – from his place by the wall.

            “Man, what’s your problem?”

            “My problem?” Harriet asked, crouched next to him. “I don’t have a problem, _man._ ”

            “Really?” Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. “Because you’ve been snapping at everyone ever since we moved out from camp.  If you didn’t want to come, you didn’t have to.”

            “Are you kidding me right now? If I didn’t want to come?” Harriet tossed one of the med cloths into the kit. “If I remember correctly, you wanted me on your team.  And in case you forgot, _man,_ you’re not the only one here who lost people.  WCKD took two of my friends.  They took-,” her words cut off quickly before she continued again.  “Forget it. Get infected.”  She grabbed the medkit and stormed off.

            A moment later, Thomas looked up and his eyes locked on Newt’s.

            Bernard let out a low whistle next to him.  “At least it’s not just me, then.”

            Newt pulled his gaze from Thomas and looked at Bernard now, brows furrowed.

            His eyes shifted, guilty.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

            “No,” Newt nodded. “You’re right.  It’s not just you,” he looked back over to Thomas.  “It’s not any of you.  Excuse me.” 

            He walked across the path toward Thomas, glanced once back at Harriet and then looked down at him.  “What was that about?”

            “She got mad because I wouldn’t let her clean my face and I called her out on her attitude.”

            Newt furrowed his brow, frustrated, and sighed through his nose.  “You should clean it, Thomas.  You don’t wanna be stuck with a dumb scar on your face,” he gestured up to his cheek where he sported his own fading gash.

            “I’ll be fine.”

            “Thomas,” Newt pressed.  “Clean the shucking cut and apologize.” He leaned down on Fry’s shoulder and fell back to sit next to him.  “Go on,” he gestured toward Harriet.

            Thomas shook his head, but conceded. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

            He walked off and Fry let out a long exhale next to him.

            “Slim it, Fry.”

            “I didn’t say anything.”

            “Not aloud, you didn’t.”  He looked up at him.  “Might as well now since you’re making a big show of it with your dramatic sighs.”

            Frypan snorted next to him and, despite the annoyance in his chest, Newt broke into a laugh too.

            “It just sucks seeing you guys like this.”  
  
            Newt looked up at him and lowered a brow.  “Like what?” he asked slowly, carefully.

            “Frustrated and just… angry all the time.”

            Newt tilted his head. “I’m not angry.”  
  
            Frypan leveled a look at him.  “Newt.”

            “What? That?” he laughed. “That was necessary,” he said, pointing to the empty space where Thomas had been sitting.  “He’s been acting like a bloody slinthead all week to anyone who tries to talk to him.”  
  
            “He’s got a lot on his shoulders, Newt.”

            “I know,” Newt nodded. “I’m not denying that.  But that’s no reason for him to be shoving everyone off.  He’s barely even spoken to anyone.  I’m pretty sure you and I are the only ones he actually knows by name.”

            “Newt,” Fry laughed.  “Just give him some time.”

            “Why am I the one being reprimanded for this?” Newt asked.

            “You’re not being reprimanded,” Fry smiled.  “All I’m saying is that he’s stressed.  People deal with stress in different ways.”  
  
            Newt eyed him but accepted the answer.  He worked his jaw over the words and then spoke quietly.  “Speaking of which, I noticed you haven’t been helping out with the meals.”

            Frypan’s smile faded just slightly as he continued fidgeting with the small rock in his hands.  He shrugged. “They’ve got it under control.”

            “Maybe,” Newt said. “But I’m sure they’d still appreciate the help.”  
  
            Frypan sat up a bit straighter and tossed the rock across the ground.  It skittered and bounced and then rolled to a halt.  “Don’t worry about me, Newt,” he looked at him, mouth pressed into a tight smile.  “I’ll be okay.”  
  
            “Still gonna worry,” Newt shrugged.

            Fry laughed.  “Just cuz I’m not cooking doesn’t mean I’m not happy.”

            “Fry, the last time you stopped cooking for a week was when-”

            “That was different.”

            Newt shifted his eyes up to him.  He considered pressing it, reminding Fry of the week after losing Nick, but he swallowed the memory.  He nodded and dropped it.  He looked back across the trail and watched Harriet laugh at something Bernard said to her.  And then suddenly Newt’s stomach dropped.  “Where is he?”

            “Who?”

            “Thomas,” Newt said, eyes scanning the group.  He twisted his head to look to the other side.  “Where’d he go?”

            “I don’t know, didn’t he just go to clean his cuts?”

            “Yeah, he’s not with Harriet.”  Newt pushed himself up, barely registering the pins and needles in his ankle. He barely registered the sound of Fry shifting and jogging to catch up with him.  He stalked across the way to Harriet.

            “-and it’d be nice if there was an extr-”

            “Where is he?” Newt demanded, more than asked.

            Harriet turned to him, brows raised.  “Excuse me?”

            “Thomas,” Newt explained.  “Where is he?”

            “I have no idea.”

            “What do you mean you have no idea?” Newt asked, brow furrowed.

            “Newt,” Frypan said quietly behind him.

            “I mean exactly what it sounds like,” Harriet said, turning fully to face him now, arms crossed.  “An idea of where he is. I don’t have one.”

            “Well you’re the last person he came to talk to you had to see him go somewhere!”

            “Newt,” Frypan warned.

            “Yeah, no,” Harriet shook her head. “You see it’s not my responsibility to keep an eye out for little boys who don’t know how to check their attitude and storm off whenever they’re slightly inconvenienced.”

            “Drop the tone. Did you see what direction he went in?” Again, it was a demand.

            “There he is,” Bernard said simply.

            Newt shot his gaze to Bernard and then followed where he pointed to the end of the trail where Thomas walked around the edge of a jutting wall.  “I’m gonna kill him.”  Newt stalked toward him, eyes burning and heart racing.

            “Newt,” Frypan said again, jogging behind him.

            “Thomas, what the hell?” he yelled over to him, ignoring Fry.

            Thomas’ head snapped up and he stopped walking. “What?”

            Newt moved before he could stop himself and he shoved his hands against Thomas’ shoulders, pushing him backward.  The medkit banged to the ground somewhere next to them, but Newt couldn’t be bothered to care.

            “Newt, what?” Thomas asked again.

            “Shit, Thomas,” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

            “Newt,” Frypan said again, and Newt began to wonder if Fry forgot literally every other word in the English language.

            “What the hell is going on?” Thomas asked.

            “Thomas,” Frypan sighed.  “Where were you, man?”  
  
            “I just went off to take care of things and wash my cu-”

            “You just went off!” Newt snapped back at him.  “Went off on your own.”  He gestured to the expanse of mountain around them.  “Went for a little walk.”

            “Newt,” Frypan warned – again – and this time reached toward him.

            Newt swatted Fry’s hand aside and rested his own on his hips as he tried to calm his breathing.  He felt like he just ran a mile.

            “Did I miss something?” Thomas asked.

            Newt raised his brows.  “Did you miss-?” He cut himself off and turned to Fry.  “He wants to know if he missed something.”

            Frypan eyed him. “Newt, take a walk.”

            “Thomas, you can’t just go wandering off on your own like that!” he snapped, ignoring Fry.

            “I didn’t wander off, I walked to the other side of the trucks and ducked behind a wall,” Thomas said, an odd mix of confusion and shock solidifying itself across his features.

            “Without telling anyone?” Newt asked.  “I nearly bit Harriet’s head off asking where she sent you!”

            “Harriet?”  
  
            “She was the last one who saw you!”

            “Newt, what is going on?” Thomas asked, gripping him by the shoulders.

            Despite his anger, something in Newt calmed at the touch – proof Thomas was physically in front of him.  His eyes fluttered closed as he exhaled.  His heart slowed and his breathing gradually began to pace itself back to normal.

            “Hey,” Thomas’ voice was soft, quiet.

            Newt opened his eyes and looked at him, saw the pleading in his eyes – the worry.         “Breathe,” Thomas continued, just as quiet. “I’m right here.”

            Newt nodded.  “Sorry for yelling, Tommy.  Just… _tell_ someone next time.”  He suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed at his outburst.  He’d have to apologize to Harriet, probably Bernard, too.  He wondered if anyone else saw his tantrum, but he forgot the worry when Thomas smiled at him.

            “Of course, Newt.  Next time I’ll leave you a detailed letter about how I really need to pee and where I intend to do it.”

            “Sod off,” Newt backhanded Thomas’ shoulder, expelled a laugh and let the fear and anger seep out of him.

            Thomas snaked his other arm around Newt’s shoulders and turned him to start walking them back to the group.  “Come on, I’ll tell you all about it. In detail.”

            “Oh spare me your snark.”

            Thomas barked a laugh out and Newt could hardly remember being mad at him in the first place.

 

            “Thomas!” Vince called out from the other side of the trucks.

            “That doesn’t sound too good,” Thomas muttered, dropping his arm from Newt’s shoulders.

            He suddenly felt a chill against the back of his neck and something inside him dimmed.  “What’s going on?”

            “I don’t know,” Thomas said as he shook his head.  He started moving toward Vince.

            Newt glanced at Fry and then moved to follow Thomas.

            “Vince, what’s wrong?” Thomas asked and his voice was suddenly solid, shifted into a Leader.

            Newt looked up at Vince who eyed him only briefly before he pointed across the cavern and down to the route below.  Newt and Thomas both leaned forward to peer down, and Newt immediately caught sight of movement.  Two people were headed up the pathway, a large bundle being pulled behind them, leaving a trail in the sand.  “Who are they?” he asked.

            “Can’t be sure,” Vince shrugged, “but I think it’s about time to wrap this rest stop up.”  
  
            Thomas nodded. “Newt, get everyone packing up.  Have Fry help you.”  
  
            “Of course.” He turned immediately and jogged over to Frypan.

            “What’s going on?” Fry asked, gaze shifting over his shoulders.

            “Everything okay?” Brenda asked as she joined them.

            “Uh, yeah,” Newt nodded. “There are some people coming up the mountain.  Not sure who, but we figure we should get the trucks ready to leave just in case.”

            “People?” Brenda asked “How many people?”  
  
            “Just two.”

            “Are they Cranks?”

            “I don’t know. I can’t tell from up here.”

            She made to step around him and walk toward Thomas, but Newt put a hand at her shoulder to still her.  “Let them handle it.  We need to get the trucks packed up.”

            She glanced back at Thomas once before she nodded. 

            “Can one of you help me with Joe’s truck?”

            “Come on,” Frypan nodded at her.

            Newt thanked them and let them jog off to the truck.  He needed to tell the rest of them, but something pulled at his chest.  He turned back and looked at Thomas and caught the way his hand slid across his back and checked for the dagger tucked into his waistband. Something about it unnerved Newt.  He lifted his gaze and met Thomas’.  He wanted to tell him to be careful, to be cautious, to quit running into danger all the time.  But he bit back on the words and stayed where he was. 

            Thomas gave him a small nod.

            Newt was pretty sure it was meant to be assurance, he was pretty sure it was meant to be confidence.  But all he could read it as was a possible goodbye.

            And he hated himself for the way his brain always twisted everything into a goodbye.

            He reached down and yanked up a bag from the floor and turned away to the trucks.  It wouldn’t be goodbye.  He’d make goddamn sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry for the massive delay on this one. This is exactly why I didn't set an update schedule for this fic lol 
> 
> Anyway, have chapter 5 finally! 
> 
> 1\. Newt's Memory - Oh hey! The morning after the bonfire! (And, sadly, one of the last moments with Ben before he got stung).
> 
> 2\. Some Thomas and Newt time! More focus on Newt's leg.
> 
> 3\. His talk with Joe - Have a bit of Joe's backstory mixed with a bit of Newt's. Joe's started becoming something of an older brother for Newt. 
> 
> 4\. Newt is definitely getting fed up with Thomas' aversion to anyone else in their little camp. He's determined to fix that. If only Thomas would stop disappearing off on his own. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for the patience and for coming back to check out the update! Hopefully chapter 6 will be up sooner than later. Love to all of you!! <3


	6. On Reunions & Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Find the Good Bits, Newt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I just want to apologize for the LOOOOOOONG delay here. I took part in a TMR Secret Santa exchange and wrote a bunch of holiday stories and then went on a 25-day trip with my girlfriend and best friend around Europe which was so amazing. Just got back earlier this month and took some time to just decompress. As you can imagine, I didn't have much time to write. 
> 
> But! I finally carved out some time to get this chapter up. I've been getting a few messages asking if I was still continuing this and when so I wanted to let you all know I DO have the story and I AM working on it, it's just taking some time since I've been working on a few other projects too. (I've got another decently long fic in the works that I've been trying to focus on as well.. Hopefully that will be going up within the next few weeks). 
> 
> Anyway, if you've come back for this - thanks for your patience and for sticking around!! It means the world to me. I know it's frustrating waiting on a story lol But sometimes life just kinda happens :/
> 
> That being said, there WILL be gaps between chapters, but they are going to go up, I promise. I have not and will not abandon this story lol 
> 
> Anyway, onwards!

            “Let’s go, grab those packs,” Newt nodded to the side where three more bags rested against the mountain wall.  He shoved the one in his hands over the edge of Jorge’s truck and into the back.

            “Here,” Matt swung two of the bags over it a moment later.

            “Thanks, finish up here.  I’ll be back in a second.”

            Matt nodded at him and called for Josh to grab the third bag.

            Newt turned and walked back to Vince’s truck.  He pulled open the boot and grabbed Vince’s bag, dragged it toward him.  He flipped the cover open and rummaged through it briefly before his fingers grazed cool metal. 

 

            _He couldn’t remember when the shotgun was even handed off to him.  When his hands found their place along it so easily, but he leaned against the corner of the truck, lifted the scope to his eye and just moved on instinct.  He found a guard and pulled at the trigger, but it locked beneath his touch._

_He watched in horror as a shot hit the edge of the truck next to Minho and that’s when it hit him.  It was suddenly like something took over his brain, controlled his movements._

_The noise dulled around him and the only sound he heard was his own breath shaken and uneven.  He lowered the gun and his hands moved quickly through the process: gripped the small loading pump and pushed forward, shifted the safety, and nearly half a second later the scope was directly in front of him again.  The back of the gun tucked itself into the soft space beneath his shoulder, one hand braced itself on the barrel as the other fit seamlessly against the handle.  His finger curled along the trigger. He focused, kept both eyes opened on the guard. Took one second to exhale.  And pulled._

Newt pushed the memory aside and pulled the small handgun from Vince’s bag.  He tilted the gun in his hand, slid the frame back and checked for the round.  After confirming it was loaded, he glanced around him and slid it into the waistband of his jeans, grateful for the loose fit for once.  He pushed the bag back into the truck and pulled the boot closed.

            He felt it press against his spine with every step closer to the edge. 

            “Newt?”

            He paused and turned back to see Fry jogging up to him.

            “Hey,” Fry said, a bit breathless.  “Trucks are packed.”

            “Okay,” he nodded. “Go make sure everyone’s ready to leave on call.”

            “Where are you going?”

            “Just gonna keep an eye on them.”

            There was a warning in Fry’s eye, but he kept it to himself.  He nodded and jogged back to the others.

            Newt turned and stalked off to the edge of the pass again.  He looked down to the scene below and watched as the group exchanged words.  They spoke too low and they were too far for him to hear, but he kept his eyes on the strangers.  They were a man and woman, both older than he was, but younger than Vince.

            Newt’s hand immediately shot to the gun at the movement from the woman as she stepped forward toward Thomas.  It wasn’t threatening, more curious, but Newt’s heart still quickened.  Thomas and Vince exchanged a glance, he watched Thomas’ mouth move over words and then he was suddenly reaching out with his hand.

            The man stepped closer and shook Thomas’ hand.  There was another exchange of words and Newt slowly lowered his hand when the four of them turned and started to walk back up the path.  If Thomas welcomed them up, then it must have been okay.  He’d trusted Thomas this far, no need to stop now.  He repeated this to himself like a mantra as he turned away and walked back toward the trucks.

            “Fry!” he called out to him.  “They’re coming up.”

            “Those people?” Brenda asked from the driver’s seat of Bertha.

            “Yeah, looks like Thomas and Vince told them to.  I don’t think we need to worry.”

            Brenda seemed hesitant but Frypan nodded immediately.

            “Wait so, we’re not moving?” Matt asked.

            “No,” Newt shook his head.  “I don’t think so.”

            “Alright then,” he sighed.  He hopped over the ledge of the truck and landed hard in the sane.  “More time _not_ spent in that truck is fine by me.”

            “Thanks,” Joe called out from his permanent place in the backseat.

            “Whatever,” Matt laughed. “Go back to sleep.”

            “Happily.”

            Newt turned at the sound of chatter and watched as Thomas, Vince and the newcomers crested the small hill.  He was suddenly very aware that he still had Vince’s gun on him. He’d have to return that at some point.

            The group slowly unloaded from the trucks and Newt lead them over to the others.

            Thomas nodded a thank you to him.

            Vince clapped his hands together and addressed the group.  “Let’s get a fire going.  It’s getting dark now and we should probably eat something and rest before we try moving again.”

            Newt flicked his eyes up to the strangers once more before he turned to help Josh grab some of the kindling from the trucks.

 

            “We’ve been traveling the Scorch for months,” the man said over his bite of the salted meat.  “When we heard about The Right Arm, we thought we’d finally found a place to fight back, and also somewhere to go for protection.”

            “Protection?”  Harriet asked.  “Protection from WCKD?”

            The woman nodded.

            “Why would WCKD want you? I mean, no offense, but don’t they only take teenagers?”

            “They took our little cousin,” the man spoke up.  “Right from his parents.  We vowed to find him and bring him home.”

            Thomas shifted next to Newt and Newt zeroed in on the sudden movement.  “How long ago did they take him?” Thomas asked.

            The man’s dark eyes flicked to Thomas.  “Three years.”

            Newt’s body froze suddenly.  His mind played a series of names inside of him like a scroll. Three years.  When the Maze Trials began.

            The man cleared his throat.  “I know it’s sort of useless to keep looking for him, they’ve probably done whatever they needed with him by now.”

            “Manny,” The woman said, more of an order.

            “I’m sorry,” Frypan put a hand on the man’s - Manny’s - shoulder and something ached inside of Newt’s chest.  He began to wonder if he knew the boy they talked about.  If he was in their Maze.  Newt remembered every single one of them

            “What happened to The Right Arm?” The woman asked, finishing the last of her food.

            A silence settled over the group and, though he didn’t realize it was possible, Newt’s body stilled even more.  These people were searching for hope, for an answer.  They were searching for protection and _she_ destroyed it.  She destroyed _them_.  The ache in his chest burned.

            “They found us,” Brenda answered down to the baby she cradled between her arms.

            “Found you?” Manny asked.  “That’s impossible.”

            “The Right Arm was barely trackable by anyone,” the woman continued.  “They couldn’t have just found you.”

            “They did,” Brenda said, not taking her eyes off the child.

            “How?”

            Newt was suddenly very aware of the way Thomas was frozen next to him.

            “They just did,” Brenda shrugged.

             “No way,” Manny shook his head.  “They had to have gotten word.  Someone had to have told them.”

            “Listen, I don’t know how WCKD-,”

            “We were betrayed,” Thomas said over Brenda. 

            Newt stared at the fire.  In his peripherals, he was distantly aware of the way everyone shifted, turned to look at Thomas, but Newt only stared at the fire.  He didn’t think he could bear to take in the hurt on Thomas’ face at the memory of her.  No, that wound was still too fresh.  So, Newt continued to watch the flames.

            Thomas continued on a shaken breath.  “We thought she was with us, thought she understood.  But she didn’t.  She chose them.”

            “Someone in your group?” The woman asked.

            Newt grit his teeth.

            “We thought she was a friend,” Thomas amended.

            Newt heard footsteps approach as Vince joined the group again, took his seat around the fire and passed around two canteens.

            “I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman said.

            “So, what happened?” Manny asked.

            Newt focused on the sounds of the crackling wood beneath the bright yellows and reds and oranges.  He focused on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.  He focused on the metallic sound of Josh unscrewing the top of a canteen, gulping down a sip and screwing it back on.  He focused on these sounds and blocked out the way Thomas divulged the story.

            “So, you’re going to do what, exactly?” the woman asked.  “March into their facility and demand to have your friend back?”

            “I don’t care how we get him back,” Thomas answered. “So long as we do.”

            Newt shifted his eyes then, giving into his curiosity and he looked up at Thomas.  But instead, his eyes snagged on movement in the distance.  He stood abruptly and watched as Joe stumbled forward from the truck, pulled himself closer to them, his casted leg dragging behind him.

            Thomas jumped up next to him and Newt thought he heard him ask a question, but he couldn’t focus on that.

            “He shouldn’t be walking,” Harriet said somewhere behind him.

            Newt tilted his head then as he caught sight of the look on Joe’s face.  It was frustration, ache, but more than that it was a tender, broken look of disbelief.  Newt started to step around Thomas to walk toward Joe, to find out what happened, but Thomas’ hand was at his chest suddenly, stopping him.

            “Joe?”

            Newt snapped his head to the side to where the woman stood, hands shaking at her sides. 

            She stepped forward, slowly.  “Joe?” she repeated, a bit louder.

            Newt looked up to Joe where he’d stopped walking, leg angled a bit outward.  There was a broken, faint whisper of _“Fran…”_ before she was running and crashing into him.  Her arms wrapped around his neck, his face buried in tangled black hair, arms tightening around her waist.

            “Holy shit,” Manny’s voice sounded somewhere behind him.

            Newt’s heart pounded, his blood rushed through his body as the realization crashed into him.  That was Fran.  Joe’s Fran.  It was the woman who hung his entire universe and she was alive.  She was alive. She was alive.

 

            Newt could hardly focus enough to register the events as they unfolded.  His head swam as he tried to grasp onto anything solid.  It felt as though he was miles away, watching through a telescope as Manny walked over and embraced Joe, helped him walk over to the group.  The sound broke and Newt watched in silence as Fran took the bundle from Brenda and turned to Joe, watched through a grainy lens as Joe’s entire body nearly buckled beneath him as she placed the boy in his arms.  Newt couldn’t understand.  He couldn’t gather how this happened.  He couldn’t fathom how – in a world of so much emptied hope and darkness with shells of a brighter world stumbling through it – two people could cross deserts to find each other after they’d given up.

            And it hurt.

            It ached so deep in his bones and gripped as his lungs because no matter how many times Newt had given up, there would still never be anybody to find him.

            “Newt?”

            The voice shot through him and pulled him from the cavern of his head, it dusted the cobwebs that caught on him where he hid. 

            “Newt?”

            He turned then and his eyes caught on Thomas’ as they flicked between his own, brows turned up in concern.

            “Newt, are you alright?”  
  
            _No_.  “Yeah.”

           

 

 

            “There were four of us, originally,” Joe continued.  The group was still sitting around the fire, listening to Joe.  Vince, Josh and Bernard disappeared to collect more kindling and wood from around the mountain paths and built a stronger fire.  Joe unraveled the story for the others.

            Newt faded in and out of the story, playing the reunion over in his head. 

            She was alive.

            She was right here.

            Joe had been so sure…

            And yet…

            Newt watched the two of them, watched how Fran’s eyes never left Joe’s face, drinking in every bit of him.  Her hand continuously reached out to his to grab it – as if to make sure he was really in front of her.

            He considered what it must be like.  He wondered how it must feel to be so sure someone you loved was dead – was gone forever – only to open your eyes one day and see them standing in front of you.  It was a luxury afforded to only a few in this world, and Newt’s chest sunk at the realization that he was not part of that group.  No – he’d seen his friends die.  He’d watched them burn, break and bleed in front of him.

            They wouldn’t be coming back.

            He counted them off with strands from his scarf.

            “Surrounded by cranks?” Bernard asked.  The sudden shift in voices jolted Newt back to the conversation.  He looked up and his eyes found Joe.

            “Yes,” Joe nodded.  “Larry and I were able to get out and run off, away from them.  But it didn’t last long.”

            Newt’s chest sunk inside of him and something twisted in his gut.  He couldn’t listen to this again.  He stood, brushing the strands of his scarf from his pants.  “Sorry, excuse me.”  He looked over at Joe and met his eyes across the fire.  Joe simply nodded, eyes understanding.  Newt nodded back to him and turned away from the group.

            But a hand was immediately at his wrist. He looked down to it and then up to meet Thomas’ eyes.

            “Hey, you okay?”

            “Yeah, Tommy,” he nodded.  He curled his mouth into what he hoped was a smile and then gently pulled his wrist from Thomas’ grasp.  He tucked his hands into his pockets and walked off toward the trucks.

            He needed to lie down and sleep and stop thinking so much.  He closed his eyes as the voices grew quieter the further he got.  He stopped at Jorge’s truck and reached up to the edge of it, stepped onto the back tire and pulled himself up.  He swung his leg over the edge, ignored the stubborn warning inside of it and slid down against the grate.  Most of the bags were tucked into the far back corner, so Newt took the opportunity to lie down onto the spread out torn comforter they’d kept layered against the hard base of the truck.  He closed his eyes.

 

            _“Newt, come on man.  You gotta eat something.”_

_Newt blinked hard at the building pain in his head.  It seared into him.  He knew it was hunger, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.  It had been three days._

_Minho sighed next to him.  “I will literally liquefy this and have Jeff inject it into you if I have to.”  
_ __  
Newt’s eyes closed at some point, though he can’t remember when.  He pressed his fist against them and watched the colors burst in his vision.

_“Newt, come on,” Minho’s voice was gentle this time, his hand softly at Newt’s forearm pulling it away from him.  His hand snaked down and grabbed Newt’s.  “Hey.” He squeezed Newt’s hand in his own.  “Come on, you can’t let the Greenie see you like this the boy’s half scared out of his mind already.”_

_Newt opened his eyes to this, half-expecting to see the young boy in front of him.  “Where is he?” he asked, barely above a whisper._

_“Gally’s got him out by the builders.”_

_Newt resisted the urge to pull his hand up to his eyes again.  Instead, he nodded.  “Good.”_

_“Good,” Minho repeated.  “Now can you please try to eat something?  You’re scaring the guys.”_

_Newt lifted his gaze up to Minho._

_“You’re scaring me,” Minho shrugged._

_Something twisted in Newt’s gut and he hated himself for the guilt that settled into his bones.  Everything that was going on and Minho and the others were concerned about_ him _.  He pushed up from the medcot but immediately fell back down onto it when his legs gave, nearly atrophied. He knew it wasn’t only his injury.  It was more than that.  This was a different kind of weakness._

_He looked down to the small napkin Minho held in his other hand, bacon and three slices of bread.  Part of him registered that he needed to eat, but the conquering part of him cringed at the thought of it.  How would he even be able to keep it down?_

_He cleared his throat.  “Is there water?”_

_Minho moved fast enough that Newt barely registered the motions and there was suddenly a glass jar in front of him.  The outside of it was wet and Newt vaguely wondered how long it’d been sitting there waiting for him to drink it.  He slowly took it from Minho and lifted it to his mouth.  He took the first sip, felt the cool liquid surge down his chest and settle against the acid in his stomach.  He suddenly craved and before he knew it the glass was empty.  He choked out a breath and panted to let it catch up with him again.  “Is there another?”_

_“Slow down,” Minho said, taking the empty jar from him. “You’re gonna throw up if you drink too much too fast and that’s counterproductive.  Also, I’m not cleaning up after you again.”_

_“Again?” Newt furrowed his brow and looked up at him._

_Minho eyed him for a moment and then turned away and a distant memory flashed in Newt’s eyes – burning in his throat as shudders ripped out of him and his stomach pressed into itself to expel what it could.  He blinked the memory away and reached for the food. “Is Frypan finally cooking again, then?”_

_“Not exactly,” Minho said to the floor._

_Newt’s hand paused before the bacon reached his mouth._

_“Stan and Scott pretty much took over for now,” he continued._

_“What’s he doing then?”_

_Minho shrugged.  “Not sure.  He talked with Alby for a bit but I didn’t ask any questions.”_

_“Where is Alby?”  
_ _  
Minho’s eyes found him again.  “Waiting for you.”  
_ __  
“For me?”

_Minho nodded._

_“Why me?”_

_Minho shrugged again. “Again, didn’t ask any questions.”  
_ __  
Newt’s head swam.

_“Eat,” Minho said.  “I’ll go get him.”_

_Newt’s eyes fell to the bacon in his hand and then he turned on the cot to catch Minho before he left the room. “Min?”_

_“Hm?” he turned back._

_Newt worked his jaw over the question, tried to figure out how to ask it.  Finally, it pulled itself out of him.  “Did they bury him yet?”_

_Minho’s face was still, unbetraying as always.  “Yes.”_

_Newt’s chest tightened.  “Oh.”_

_“Billy wanted to wait, but they couldn’t.”_

_“No,” Newt nodded, furrowing his brows. “No, of course they couldn’t.”_

_“I can take you to him, if you want.  When you’re ready.”  
_ __  
Newt nodded and then another question formed and dripped out of him.  “What about the wall?  Did they… did someone…?”  
  
            Minho’s face was still, unbetraying as always.  “No.”

            Newt opened his eyes to the night sky.  His gazy shifted between the stars above him, but it wasn’t the stars that he watched.  It was the dark spaces between them, the stretched emptiness of navy and black blended together.  This was what the world was.  This darkness.  Without the help from the sun, this was what the sky would always look like.  Dark.  Empty.  Swallowing.  How fitting it was…

            And there, in those spaces of darkness, Newt found memories.  He found the image of Nick’s name carved into stone, Alby repeatedly walking up to it but never quite being able to follow through. _Tomorrow_ , he would always say. 

            Newt’s chest buckled inside of him and he suddenly realized that _tomorrow_ never came.  Somewhere, the Maze still stood.  And Nick’s name was still carved, untouched.  Just like Alby’s.  Just like Winston’s.  Just like Chuck’s.  Something clawed at the back of Newt’s head and he wished for a brief moment he could carve the names into the spaces between the stars.

 

            Footsteps crunched on the gravel outside of the truck. 

            Newt closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose and opened them.  The steps paused at the front of the truck and Newt considered staying quiet, but something inside of him pulled and he realized that maybe company would do him good.  He realized that maybe Thomas would ease the scrape of stone against his bones.  He realized that maybe Joe was right, that maybe talking about it could help.

            “I’m back here.”  His voice sounded broken even in his own ears.  He listened as the footsteps came closer and only shifted his eyes when he saw familiar hands grip the edge of the truck.  And then Thomas was pulling himself up and looking over at him.  Newt looked back up to the dark pockets of the sky.

            “What’re you doing?” Thomas asked him.

            Newt considered a lie, but then swallowed it down.  “Didn’t want to hear the story again.”

            “Again?”

            Newt felt his mouth curl up.  He couldn’t say he was surprised.  He turned to find Thomas looking down at him from the edge of the truck still, brow furrowed.  “Not all of us spend our time lost in our own heads, Tommy.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Have you ever asked Joe about how he started working with The Right Arm?  Or why Josh has that scar across his jaw?  Did you know Harriet was their version of a medjack in their Maze?”  Part of him tapped at his head and reminded him that he embellished a bit, assumed a fair amount, but he ignored it.  His point was made.

            Maybe.

            He was suddenly unsure Thomas understood.  He only looked down at Newt with a blank face.

            Newt turned away and found the darkness again.  Somewhere to his right, he saw Thomas swing his legs over the truck. 

            He sat down and leaned against the side. “I take it you did?”

            Newt shrugged.  “Everyone has a story, Tommy.”  
  
            “Don’t think mine is worth very much, personally.”

            Newt flinched at this and was thankful for the cover of the darkness.  “There’s still time to make it a good one.”  As he said it, the words carved themselves into his sternum.

            Thomas let out a small laugh somewhere off to the side.  “Yeah, how in the hell could I make anything good out of this?”

            Newt caught the way Thomas’ hand waved vaguely around them.  A flashed memory stuttered in his vision of a time he said the same words.  He shook his head.  “Like I said, Tommy.”  He pulled a hand from beneath his head and tapped a finger to his temple twice.  “Always lost in your own head.”

            “Okay,” Thomas laughed.  “Now what does that mean?”

            Newt let out a low laugh, shaking against the truck bed.  His eyes shifted from the darkness to the stars speckled across it.  “Just… start paying attention.  Open your eyes, mate.  Everyone’s stories have good bits in them.  You’ve just got to find yours.”

            “How am I supposed to do that when everywhere I go, something bad happens?” Thomas laughed as he said it.  “I mean, your life was probably all ‘good bits’ before I arrived in the box, right?  Order in the Glade, and all that.  Then, I come in and bring a whole storm of shit with me.” A light laugh floated out of his mouth.

            Newt knew it was a small comment.  He knew it was only a passing statement and that Thomas probably knew life in the Glade wasn’t as easy and perfect as that.  Still, the comment wrapped itself around Newt’s throat and pulled.  His lungs tightened and suddenly all he could think of was the way Nick looked when they found him.  How Alby looked being torn from the hut.  How Chuck looked lying against a cold, unfamiliar floor.

            All he could think about was the way that none of these people – none of them – wanted their lives to end, but they did. 

            And Newt was still here, living in their stead.

            He felt the building pain start in the center of his skull and quickly push itself forward.  His eyes tightened and strained and his throat closed over the threat of a choked breath.  But this time, he couldn’t bear it.  This time it was going to break through.  And Newt hated himself for it.

            He pulled his hand up and covered his eyes, hoped to shield them, that Thomas wouldn’t notice.  But of course –

            “Newt?”

            Newt’s hand swiped down his face as he took a shuddering breath in, tried to control the threat cresting in his chest.  He watched Thomas come into view suddenly, kneeling next to him. 

            His hands hovered over Newt.  “Newt.  What’s wrong?”

            Newt inhaled another breath and found he was able to stifle the pain back down, bury it further.  He exhaled on an embarrassed laugh.  “Nothing, I’m just…” His words faded, but that was okay.  He wasn’t sure how to explain anyway.  Instead, he curled his mouth into what he hoped was a smile.

            “Newt, talk to me.  Come on.”

            The words rocked something inside of him and he felt a sudden drive.  “I just…” he tried again.  “Joe told me that story before.  About his friend.  About Larry.  And I just keep thinking back to Winston.”  His eyes shifted through the pockets of darkness in the sky, memory after memory unfolding. “And seeing Joe and Fran?” he continued.  “He thought he’d lost her.  Lost their child.  Was sure they were gone.  And,” his voice caught.  “We lost Winston.  We lost Alby, and Chuck, Zart, Billy, Justin, Jeff-”

            “Newt-”

            “-Clint, Jack, Rob-”

            “Newt. Newt!” Thomas reached a hand out to Newt’s shoulder and then another was at his chest, gently shaking him.

            Newt blinked back from the stone wall, the names that would never be properly crossed out.

            “Newt,” Thomas said.  “Look at me.”

            Their eyes locked on each other’s.

            After a moment, Thomas spoke. “You’re not going to lose anyone else.”

            The fear broke out of Newt before he could stop it.  “Minho.”

            “You’re not going to, Newt.  We’re going to get Minho back.”

            “Tommy, you don’t know that.”

            Thomas gave into a small sigh and pulled his hands from Newt.  He turned then and lied down in the truck bed next to him, looking up to the stars. “Newt, we’re not going to lose anyone else.  We’re going to find Minho, and we’re all leaving this place and everything in it behind us.  Then it’s just good bits from there on out, alright?”

            Newt turned his head and looked up at the darkness.  He wanted to believe him.  He wanted to trust in the words Thomas offered him.  He wanted to let himself hope, to believe.  But the darkness beckoned.  His eyes stopped jumping from dark pocket to dark pocket and, instead, landed on a single star just a bit above him to the right.  It burned against the darkness, a small spark.  He latched onto it.  Stared at it until it burned itself into his memory.  He resolved then to do this.  He resolved to push through, to hope.  He resolved to keep his eyes on the stars instead from now on, not the pockets of darkness.  If Thomas insisted they would be okay, then Newt would just have to believe him.  Newt would grasp at the good bits. “Thanks, Tommy.”

            “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! The Notes!
> 
> 1\. Newt's always going to have Thomas' back - especially when it comes to strangers in a desert. Always protective <3 But hey, if Thomas trusts them then so does Newt. And for good reason too! Joe got his Fran back!
> 
> 2\. Threw in some more memories and flashbacks here. Those are still slowly spilling out through the story. More to come (:
> 
> 3\. Newt goes through a lot in his head. He's not always the put together boy that Thomas thinks he is. There are dark thoughts up there that he can't easily escape. I'm going to continue to focus on these, so just remember to take care if it gets to be too much and remember that you can always skip chapters and sections. <3 You come first, always.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who's kept up with the story and been incREDIBLY patient with me lol I'm sure the gap between this and the next chapter won't be another several months. Love you all and this story (: It's nice to be back.


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